Destiny's Shadow
by fongiel
Summary: This is an alternate universe fanfic based on the video game Knights of the Old Republic. It is a 'what if' story that has Revan retaining his memory after his capture by the Jedi.
1. Prologue

_He was alone in the darkness. The blue of his lightsaber cast an eerie light in the cavern, illuminating his face in its ghostly glow. The Jedi teachings had failed him, all the tenets of the Code he had lived his entire life by nothing but the musings of fools. His eyes filled with the fire of a man betrayed as he steeled himself and stepped through the archway of the citadel. _

"_Why have you come here, Jedi?" a ghostly voice asked. _

"_I seek power."_

_A haunting chorus of humorless laughter rang through the cavern as light from thousands of Sith holocrons, housing the spirits of the Sith dead bathed him in a green light. _

"_As do they all. You seek power to conquer, to build for yourself an empire, to crush all those who would oppose you, to strip the flesh from the bones of all who doubt you…"_

"_No…" the Knight's voice echoed angrily, "I seek power to protect and preserve. I swore an oath to defend the weak and defenseless, as all Jedi do. The Jedi have betrayed the oath. I seek power to stop the Mandalorian hordes, I seek power to fight the battle the Jedi will not, to bear the burden they refuse!"_

_His voice was thick with bitterness and anger. The fire in his eyes burned with a white-hot intensity as his fear completely left him. _

"_There is such hatred in you, Jedi. You speak noble words but do you truly believe them?"_

_The Knight plunged his lightsaber into a stone altar. _

"_I have sought you out and I seek to prove my worth."_

_A single strand of smoke wafted from the crackling blade of his lightsaber, wrapping itself around him._

"_You have already proven your worth by coming here. If you were not worthy, you would have already perished," a voice hissed. _

"_Then grant me what I seek!"_

_There was silence. And then the voice spoke again. _

"_You are at a threshold, Jedi. Once you cross it, there is no going back. There is power in this place you cannot fathom, but it pales beside the might of the true Sith. Is this what you want? To sell your soul for this power?"_

_The words brought him pause and a look of uncertainty flashed across his face. But the Knight clenched his teeth and narrowed his eyes. _

"_Yes. I want this power, I need it. If it will save the Republic from the Mandalorian horde, I would gladly give anything for it." _

"_Then close your eyes, young one, and look within." _

_A flash of light blinded the Knight and the pale green glow of the cavern turned a blood red. The young Jedi was thrown to the ground and he disappeared in a cloud of smoke. _

"_Arise, Darth Revan, and claim your birthright." _

_The Knight rose to his feet. _

"_I feel nothing…" _

_The red glow slowly faded back to green. _

"_The power lies within you. It always did. In this place, it has merely been unleashed. The burning rage and fury of your soul is what grants you power, it will be the strength by which you destroy those who would dare defy you. But know this, Jedi. The power you have been given must be fed. There is a hunger within you that will forever lust for the darkness. You can never go back for you have been marked, you carry our taint. You will be forever more a slave to the dark side."_

"_If that is the price I must pay to save the Republic, then I would gladly bear this burden," the Knight said resolutely, his voice echoing in the cavern. But he was met with silence as the Sith spirits fell back into their slumber, plunging the citadel back into darkness. He was alone once again. Gripping the hilt of his lightsaber in a mailed fist, the Knight pulled it from the altar. The blade had turned a deep crimson, reflecting the fury in his soul._

_

* * *

_The young man opened his eyes and slowly rose to a sitting position on his bed. Reaching over to the low nightstand beside him, he felt his fingers run over something cool and hard. Bringing his mask up to his face, he stared into its empty eye sockets. The surface was slightly shiny, fashioned out of a smooth black metal that was cold to the touch. Sinister markings and symbols were etched into it, seeming to glow with a reddish light. The mask exuded pure evil, as dark as the man who wore it. He looked at his reflection and a handsome face in its early twenties stared back. Dark brown eyes, almost black in their depth, pierced through him, seemingly looking into his very soul. Rising to his feet, he slowly pulled his robes over a chiseled, muscular frame. Cortosis armor plates formed an impermeable shell that he strapped on piece-by-piece, starting with the breastplate and finishing with ridged gauntlets, the palm lined with rough krayt dragon's skin that had been dyed black. Taking the mask in both hands, he fitted it over his face before pulling the heavy hood of his robes over his long, dark brown hair, obscuring his face completely. Just the sight of the Dark Lord of the Sith could strike fear and dread into the hearts of both friend and foe. Stepping through the arched doorway of his chambers, he regarded the officer waiting for him with a cold, bone-chilling stare.

"Speak."

The man was in his fifties, a career Republic officer who'd defected to the Sith when he saw the futility of standing against the Dark Lord's might.

"My lord, Bastila's fleet has arrived in this sector, just as you foresaw. They will be upon us in three standard hours at their present speed and heading."

The Dark Lord nodded.

"Inform Sato Kast I wish to speak with him."

* * *

Sato Kast was a giant of a man, with arms thicker that most men's thighs and broad shoulders that supported a massive frame. A faint scar ran down the ebony skin of his face, a reminder of a horrific Mandalorian ambush in the jungles of Dxun, one of the most vicious battlefields of the Mandalore Wars. He had an air of menace about him, an intensity with which he carried himself that alone served as an unspoken warning to any who would threaten the life of his Sith overlord. 

Bowing low to the ground, he removed his helm, holding it under his arm.

"You summoned me, my Lord Revan?"

An elite soldier of the Republic in the Mandalorian Wars, Sato now served the Dark Lord as the captain of his personal guard. Trained in the ways of Revan's deadly Jedi-hunting Sith assassins, Sato's role was not to protect the Dark Lord against outside threats, but against his own followers. Even as a Jedi, the Lord of the Sith had had no equal. No outside enemy could ever pose a threat to him.

It was his followers, the legions of fallen Jedi who'd sworn allegiance to the dark side that were the enemy Sato prepared for. Consumed by a lust for power, not one of them would hesitate to plunge a knife in Revan's back and steal his throne. For such was the way of the Sith. Betrayal was among the first lessons Revan taught his followers. The irony wasn't lost on Sato. Nor was the fact neither he nor any of the other soldiers in Revan's guard had any ability to feel the Force. They were completely Force-blind. The Dark Lord had said once the most dangerous enemy a Force-wielder could face was one who could not feel the Force at all. The reliance of Jedi and Sith on their ability to act through the Force was their weakness, a weakness that could be exploited by those trained to do so.

The Dark Lord reached into his cloak and produced a small holoprojector, turning it on as he handed it to his bodyguard. It was an image of a beautiful young woman with light brown hair and deep blue eyes.

"A team of Jedi will board my vessel in this battle. The Republic fleet is nothing but bait for a trap."

"My lord?"

"A trap can work both ways, able to ensnare the one who lays it just as well as the one who it is intended for. When the Jedi arrive, you and your men will do as you have been trained. Slaughter them. Slaughter them all. But you are not to harm this one. Let her pass."

He looked at the holoprojector he had placed in Sato's hand with unblinking eyes.

"Who is she?"

The Dark Lord smiled thinly behind his mask.

"An old friend."

* * *

Bastila Shan fought to keep the strong emotions she felt within from overwhelming her as the cloaked boarding craft streaked out of the launch bay of the Republic battlecruiser _Victory_. Darth Revan's fleet was just coming into view as one after another, the massive Sith dreadnoughts appeared out of hyperspace, clouds of escorting snub wing fighters blotting out the stars as they screamed out of hanger bays. 

This was not her first battle. Her Battle Meditation, an extremely rare ability showing itself in only a very select few in the Order, had ensured her place at the forefront of the Republic's plans to defeat the Sith. She was strong in the Force, unusually so. Though her Battle Meditation had only manifested itself a few short years ago, she had already mastered it. Her ability to influence the course of entire battles was something not even those on the Jedi Council could explain. By concentrating on a battle and playing it out in her mind, she could sap the will of the enemy to fight while giving strength and courage to her allies. On a larger scale, she could coordinate entire fleets of warships, from the largest battlecruisers to the smallest fighters, enabling them to act in perfect unison. Others in the Jedi Order's past had had this ability as well, but none were able to use it as effectively as she could. And none had been as young as she was. Just a teenager, she had given hope to a Republic that desperately needed it. Already she had seen more of war than many Jedi twice her age.

But she had never seen it from the frontlines. Ever aware of the danger in risking her near the front, she had always been safely tucked away at the rear, either in heavily guarded command centers or using her gift on the bridge of a Republic flagship surrounded by escorts. Battle Meditation had given the Republic an asset by which they could almost ensure victory in any battle. None of the Sith commanders, Jedi or not, could stand against her. None except one. Bastila closed her eyes and remembered.

After having finally stalled the Sith advance, the Republic and the Jedi Order had grown bold. Believing her invincible, they had sent her into battle against the Lord of the Sith himself, hoping for a final crushing victory that would break the back of the Sith. But Revan was no ordinary commander. As a Jedi, Revan had left for the Mandalorian Wars when he was just nineteen. From the moment he first took command, he'd never lost a battle. His tactical and strategic brilliance were unmatched by any commander, Mandalorian or Republic. Since turning on the Republic, even after almost two years of non-stop conflict, his battle record remained unblemished. Before that battle, she remembered feeling apprehension going against Revan, something she'd never felt before. Something was wrong. She should have followed her instincts and brought her concerns to the Jedi Council and Republic Command. The Force was trying to communicate with her but she had ignored it.

Revan's military genius had proven more than even her Battle Meditation could counter. Almost the moment the Republic fleet engaged a surprisingly small Sith force, Sith reinforcements had poured in from both flanks, quickly cutting off their escape. With most of the Republic's most powerful vessels trapped in the middle, the weaker ships on the perimeter had been shot to pieces.

As Revan's armada viciously cut through the Republic fleet, it had only been through the quick action of Admiral Trellin's escorting frigates that she had escaped. She still had nightmares, nightmares of the Republic escort ships sacrificing themselves, putting themselves between Revan's massive flagship, the _Titan_, and the Republic command ship. They had bought enough time for them to make the jump to hyperspace but at the cost of their lives. Republic Command had never risked her in open battle with the Dark Lord present again.

Circumstances hadn't changed. With Revan's fleet growing by the day, he was sweeping aside the Republic's defenders like chaff at harvest. With each victory, Revan's ranks would swell with Republic defectors, men driven either by greed, frustration, or fear of the Dark Lord's seemingly infinite power. With Revan at the head, the Sith were invincible. The key to their defeat was obvious. Revan had to be neutralized. What had never been clear was how that could be done. Finding Revan wouldn't be difficult. The flagship of the Sith Lord, the _Titan_, was at the forefront of every major engagement. Revan led the charge from the front, never hiding in the rear as Republic commanders liked to do. Having never suffered so much as a scratch, it was a sound strategy, bringing the massive firepower of the _Titan_'s guns to bear on the enemy early in the fight. But it also meant the _Titan _was never protected by screens of fighters or smaller vessels.

"His overconfidence is his weakness," Master Vrook had said.

While the _Titan_'s firepower and impenetrable shields meant any attempt by Republic warships to engage her would result in a massacre, the Republic's greatest military minds had concluded Revan's flagship was vulnerable to being boarded. Once on board however, any strike team would be immediately met with hordes of Sith soldiers, better trained and motivated, far superior in the close quarter battle engagements that characterized ship-to-ship warfare. Even if by some miracle a team could reach the Dark Lord himself, Revan was no easy target. One of the greatest Jedi the Order had ever known, Revan had a well-earned reputation before he left as the Jedi's greatest lightsaber duelist. With experience in the Mandalorian Wars and the addition of Sith techniques to his already formidable repertoire, there wasn't a Jedi alive who could take on the Dark Lord and win. There were legends from both the Mandalore Wars and the current Sith conquest of Darth Revan taking on entire battalions of men single-handedly – and butchering them. Any boarding party, Jedi or not, would be facing almost insurmountable odds if they hoped to destroy the Dark Lord. There was no other choice though. The Republic couldn't give up any more ground to the  
Sith. Suicide mission or not, something had to be done.

* * *

Sato ran his finger along the edge of a wicked looking double-bladed sword that gleamed in the dim light of the _Titan_'s bridge. A thin line of blood trickled from the cut the blade made. Sato rubbed his wounded forefinger together with his thumb, feeling the blood against his skin. It had taken some time for career soldiers such as Sato to learn to give up their blasters for more traditional weapons but Revan's personal guard had become deadly in personal combat. While meeting a Jedi in face-to-face battle seemed suicidal, blasters were worse than useless against lightsabers. And the blades Revan had given his guard were constructed of no ordinary metal. It was fine, cortosis alloy, one of the few known elements in the galaxy able to stop a lightsaber blade. In the hands of a well-trained wielder, the razor-sharp double-blades could be deadly, even to a Jedi. 

Pulling the crimson gauntlet back over his hand, Sato thought back to the sequence of events that had led him to where he was now, personal bodyguard to the most feared man in the galaxy. If anyone had asked him ten years ago whether he would have ever dreamt of being in this position, pledging absolute loyalty to a Sith Lord, he would have shot him between the eyes. Although the Sith conquests of Exar Kun had been ended years before his birth, memories of the savagery and brutality of the Sith weren't easily forgotten. The Sith were the greatest evil in the galaxy, it had seemed simple. But he had learned by experience life rarely turned out as he expected.

Revan had taken the title of Dark Lord of the Sith but he was different from the rest. His rebirth from the darkness had been one of betrayal and treachery but he was well known for looking after those who served him well. Cold, precise, and with a calculating mind that seemed to see everything, Revan was the perfect military commander. Never failing to reward devotion and excellence, the Dark Lord was also well known for his intolerance for incompetence and weakness. All men were born equal in Revan's eyes. It was only through merit that some rose above others. It was the supreme irony that the Republic ideals of fairness and equality were epitomized in Revan's Sith fleet while the Republic itself was rotting from the core, plagued by corruption and greed. In Revan's command, even as a Republic military leader, everything had always been clear: the strong flourished, the weak withered and died. Revan had said more than once he had neither the time nor the luxury of worrying about family or political connections.

"When you go to battle, you fight or die. The enemy does not care who you are or who you know; why should I?"

Sato smiled grimly behind his tinted visor at Revan's words. As a Republic fleet commander, Revan had proven his courage and devotion with his own blood. When the Mandalorians invaded, Republic forces had suffered defeat after crushing defeat, dazed and stunned by the ferocity of the Mandalorian Clans. For two years the Mandalorian hordes had had their way, tearing through Republic squadrons sent to stop them. The Jedi, defenders of the Republic for fifteen thousand years, refused to join the fight. Sato still remembered, sitting in an infirmary bed after the ambush that almost killed him, an action that won him the Hero's Cross, watching the Holonet viewer when the news anchor announced the Jedi Council's decision. He'd taken the viewer and thrown it across the room, watching it shatter into a thousand pieces as he cursed the Jedi. While they sat in their meditation chambers, far from the fighting on safe worlds such as Coruscant, soldiers died, ships were turned into blazing funeral pyres and entire fleets were destroyed; all in the defense of a Republic the Jedi had sworn to protect.

But just when he had lost all faith in the Jedi, at the Republic's darkest hour, when the Mandalorians were right on the doorstep of the Core Worlds, a fresh-faced nineteen-year-old named Revan resigned his Jedi commission and brought salvation. From his first victory, he never looked back. It was all over in less than eighteen months. In the skies over Malachor V, the Republic's greatest son, exiled from the Jedi Order for his defiance, wiped out what was left of the Mandalorians. Revan had saved them, saved them all. So when the hero asked his men to follow him on one last crusade to finish off the last of Mandalore's followers, his entire command left with him. Sato remembered watching from his ship as a whole third of the fleet had drifted off into the Unknown Regions after the charismatic hero. He himself would have joined Revan's fleet if it hadn't been for his promotion to commander. But Revan had disappeared with his closest friend and follower Malak, as well as every man and ship accompanying him. Everyone had thought him dead, a casualty of whatever unthinkable horrors lay out in the uncharted regions of space.

Even as the Republic planned a state funeral though, Sato had known Revan couldn't be deceased. He'd been in Revan's first command, a single battalion of burnt out, beaten down Republic recruits. He remembered the fire in the young Jedi's eyes when he told them they wouldn't give up another inch to the enemy. Many commanders gave similar speeches but none of them were ever able to carry through with their prideful statements. None except Revan. Always leading from the front, Revan had led the battalion to countless victories, turning a defeated band of misfits into one of the Republic's crack light infantry units. The promotions had followed swiftly until Revan was the supreme commander of the Republic Fleet, with a third of its forces under his direct command. His and Revan's paths had diverged but Sato had never forgotten the fearless Jedi with the fiery eyes. Even in the 'peace' that followed the Mandalore Wars, Sato thought often of Revan's disappearance, wondering where the hero had wandered.

So when Revan returned at the head of a Sith armada and called for the Republic to listen, Sato had listened. The Republic was fading, the institution that had ruled the galaxy for almost fifteen thousand years was a tired beast waiting to die. With every passing day the Republic would grow weaker. What would become of the galaxy if another threat such as the Mandalorians arose? Change was needed. And Revan would bring that change. Transition would come peacefully if possible, but he was willing to fight for it if necessary.

The Jedi Order, which had been so hesitant to take up arms against the Mandalorians years before, immediately labeled Revan the new enemy and the Republic prepared for another war. Sato had been faced with a choice: Follow the Jedi into battle against the Sith, or stand at the side of the man who'd sacrificed his all to fight at their side. It was an easy decision. Like many others, he'd resigned his commission and taken his place in Darth Revan's armada. When the Dark Lord called Sato before him, asking the veteran to form an elite core, a Praetorian Guard entrusted with his life, Sato hadn't hesitated even a second before accepting. He would protect this man to the end, even if it cost him everything.

* * *

Everything was going according to plan. The Republic fleet, with Bastila as bait, had drawn the Sith out. Revan had engaged Republic forces without hesitation. 

"Perhaps the Dark Lord isn't as powerful as we were led to believe. Surely a true Sith Lord would have seen this as a trap," one of the other Jedi Knights in the cramped boarding craft said with a smile. Bastila smiled back weakly, but she knew he was wrong. Revan may have been headstrong and prideful, even as a Jedi, but he was no fool. He had never gotten involved in anything without first evaluating every potential outcome and preparing contingencies for all of them. And through the Force, he could see things no one else could. If they made it to the _Titan_ in one piece, it would be because Revan allowed it, not because they had caught him off guard.

"Still your heart, child. To feel fear is natural but you must trust in the Force."

Master Tor, a revered Jedi Weaponsmaster in his sixties put his hand on her shoulder and gave her a reassuring squeeze. Bastila nodded.

"Yes, Master."

But it wasn't fear she felt. She could feel his presence, even at this distance. Every Jedi could feel the darkness in Revan but it was something more for her. The Force bond he'd formed with her remained, a reminder of happier times, when Revan had just been… Revan, her dearest friend and eternal protector. The relationship they'd shared was special, something they both cherished and no one, not even Malak, his best friend, could ever understand.

Separated by only five years, Revan had always seemed so much older, light years ahead in his development. When Bastila had joined the Order as a frightened five year old, Revan was already a very mature ten-year-old apprentice, well on his way to becoming one of the youngest Padawans in the history of the Jedi. When Bastila was still just a struggling apprentice, Revan had become a seventeen-year-old Knight, the youngest Knight the Order had seen in centuries.

Personally, they seemingly couldn't have been more different. Revan's potential as a Jedi had been clear from the moment of his inception. Picking up on every concept, every lesson almost instantaneously, it had taken no time at all for him to be marked as a pupil with a great destiny ahead of him. Bastila had been a late bloomer. Never able to control her emotions very well, her ability in the Force had remained hidden through almost her entire childhood, into her early teens. A few of the Jedi Masters had even questioned if she was even Force-sensitive enough to continue training.

While Revan was outgoing and charismatic, a social magnet drawing others to him, Bastila was shy and reclusive, never able to make friends easily. When her strong affinity to the Force had finally revealed itself, her shyness developed into what many perceived as a prickly arrogance that made her even more unapproachable than before. But when the two had met as children, a chance encounter on Dantooine, the Order's brightest pupil had immediately taken the young girl under his wing. The two had been inseparable as Revan took on the role of an older brother in her life, always watching over her. When other children gave her a hard time, Revan never failed to rush to the defense of his 'little sister'. And when several Jedi Masters suggested Bastila's training as a Jedi be stopped, Revan threatened to leave the Order if they ever even thought of expelling her.

Ironically, the fact Bastila had developed into the Jedi's greatest weapon against the Sith was largely Revan's doing. Exceedingly difficult to train, Bastila had gone through several Masters over the years, frustrating even the most experienced instructors with her inability to maintain control and unleash her vast potential. Although only a Knight, Revan had spent considerable time taking her aside and training her himself when difficulties arose. It had actually been Revan who first hinted at Bastila's Battle Meditation, suggesting her master explore the possibility of his young friend being far more than she appeared to be. She was dear to him, his closest confidant other than Malak, so much so that many of the Masters on the Jedi Council worried it would hinder his development. And Bastila had looked up to Revan, putting him on a pedestal.

When Revan had left for the Mandalorian Wars, it had broken her heart. She coped with his absence by burying herself in her studies, spurring her development at a rate that rivaled his in his younger days. Her ability as a Jedi was probably greater than many of the Order's Knights. But fearing her arrogance and lack of control could lead her down the same path as Revan, the Jedi Council chose not to allow her to take her trials to become a Knight.

Though she resented being held back as a Padawan, Bastila was determined to be a great Jedi, to fulfill the destiny Revan never did. With Revan's fall to the Sith, she was possibly the Republic's only hope at stopping him. What she felt for him now… she was unsure. It was a strange mixture of anger at his having left her, and longing and sorrow, a desire for him to take her in his arms once more and whisper words of comfort to her as she poured her heart out to him. His love for her had been that of an older brother's, only stronger. Her love for him had always been… something different, starting out as a kind of hero-worship, then infatuation, finally becoming… what? It bothered her more than anything else. Even now when Revan, her Revan, had fallen to the dark side, he was able to do things to her no one else could. What she felt for him… anger… love… hatred… sorrow… they were forbidden for a Jedi, feelings that could lead her to follow his path into darkness. She could only hope the Force would give her the strength she needed to face him.

* * *

Sato watched emotionlessly as the blast doors onto the bridge exploded in a flash of light, sending bodies flying. His tinted visor automatically darkened to shield his eyes from the stunning effect of the light and audio filters kept his ears from ringing from the blast. He had watched the Jedi strike team progress through the ship, fighting through Sith defenders and he was impressed. For some reason, Revan had ordered most of his forces on the _Titan_ to stand down, almost as if he wanted the Jedi to reach him. Even so, the _Titan_'s standing defenses were formidable. The strike team had been whittled down to a third of its strength. These Jedi were obviously the greatest warriors the Order had to offer. The Sith soldiers and fallen Jedi guarding the bridge were no match, falling to the flashing blade of Jedi lightsabers as the strike team advanced towards Sato. He and his twenty handpicked men were all that stood between the Dark Lord's meditation chambers and a dozen Jedi. 

"The girl is not to be harmed," he warned over his comlink for a final time, relaying his Master's strange order, "But slaughter the rest. Give no quarter and expect none – this will be a battle to the death!"

* * *

Bastila breathed heavily as she cut down one of the crimson clad bodyguards with her yellow lightsaber. Revan was close, she could sense him. Only a few steps away was the lift leading up to his meditation chambers overlooking the front of the ship. But looking around her, she realized they weren't going to make it. Men and women she'd thought invincible, Jedi with abilities in battle far superior to her own, lay dead, their blood pooling on the durasteel grating of the deck. Revan's personal guard was made up of trained killers, almost invincible to their Force attacks. She couldn't sense the Force from any of them, they seemed completely Force-blind. Then again, she couldn't sense anything from them. It was like they weren't even there. 

"You fight well, Jedi. The Dark Lord will surely find a place for you in our ranks."

Bastila deflected a swing from her assailant and attacked, driving him back.

"I'll never fall to the dark side! Your master will be defeated and the light side shall prevail!" she cried. Her opponent pushed her back and laughed.

"Don't be so sure."

Master Tor gave a cry as a shimmering blade slashed through his side. She was alone.

"And now, Jedi, you will die!"

Twirling his double-blade, her opponent knocked her off balance and unleashed a flurry of blows, overwhelming her with the ferocity of his assault. She had never seen such fury before, even in the great weaponsmasters of the Order. Before she knew it, her lightsaber blade had been knocked aside and she found herself on her back, her attacker standing over her. As he swung his blade down towards her face, she closed her eyes, preparing herself to rejoin the Force as her spirit left her body. The blow never reached her. She was started by the crack of her assailant's blade meeting another.

"She is not to be harmed. The Master ordered it himself," Sato's voice boomed. The guard who had attacked her lay on the ground, his headless torso motionless. Her 'savior' retrieved her lightsaber, handing it to her. He was a massive man, with shoulders that seemed broader than she was tall. His blade glistened with blood.

"Darth Revan awaits you in his chambers," he said with a deep, baritone voice that seemed to echo from his barrel-like chest.

"You would allow me to go to your Master armed?" she asked incredulously.

Sato smiled under his helm.

"If my Master wished you dead, he could end your life with nothing but a single thought. Your weapon will prove useless to you. Now go. Lord Revan does not like to be kept waiting."

* * *

Bastila stepped out of the lift and spotted him, seated in a throne-like chair in front of the massive windows overlooking the front of the ship. Igniting her lightsaber, she cautiously approached him, reciting the Jedi teachings, trying to calm her heart. She was alone with the Dark Lord, a mere Padawan facing a man who'd killed countless Jedi Masters, a former Jedi who'd boasted an undefeated record in the dueling chambers from the age of fifteen. Revan didn't even turn his chair to face her. As she got closer, she saw he was holding something. Her first thought was a weapon, but when he moved his hand slightly, she saw it was just a glass, filled with a clear liquid. 

"You cannot win Revan!" she cried with a defiant confidence she didn't feel. Revan ignored her, simply took a sip from his glass before setting it down and rising to his feet. He walked slowly to the front of the room, facing away from her.

"The fact you are here means I have already won. The Council would not risk you unless they had no other choice."

"If you strike me down, others will take my place!"

He set his glass down and paced across the deck. Clasping his hands behind his back, the Dark Lord looked down at the battle being fought below.

"Beautiful, is it not?"

"Beautiful? How far did you have to fall to think of such carnage as beauty?"

Revan shook his head.

"No, not the battle. The night sky. Here, almost at the heart of the galaxy, one can see everything. You see that star? The bright blue one, high above us? That would be Japreal, lying on what used to be one of the Republic's primary hyperspace routes. The primary planet in the system is Onderon. A beautiful world, but with a tragic history. That was my first battlefield."

Flipping open a panel along the bulkhead, he removed a bottle of dark, maroon liquid. Bastila looked away, not wanting to see his face twisted by the corrupting evil of the dark side. She wanted to remember Revan as the kind, young man who'd loved her, her guardian and protector, not the Sith Lord who sought to destroy the Republic and the Jedi Order.

"I'm sorry, I seem to have forgotten my manners. Would you like a drink? Some wine, perhaps? It really is very fine, aged to perfection. I captured it from the flagship of Admiral Massen last week. This bottle is from one of the finest vineyards on Alderaan. It seems even in war Republic officers cannot deny themselves a few of the comforts of home. Understandable, considering the plight they find themselves in, no?"

He poured himself a glass and swirled it around for a moment, savoring the aroma before taking a sip.

"Alderaan wine… one of the more decadent pleasures of life. Do you remember the time you first tried it? I was only going to offer you a taste but when I turned around, you'd consumed the entire bottle. You became so sick I thought you would die. I was almost ready to draw my lightsaber and fall upon it, my guilt was so great."

Bastila bit her lip, trying to maintain her focus. She remembered. She had only been eleven, Revan was sixteen. He and Malak used to sneak off to town to a local cantina where a sympathetic bartender would give them whatever they wanted for a not unreasonable surcharge. Malak had always gone for the heavier drinks, Tarisian ale, Corellian whiskey, hard liquors that could knock out a bantha. But Revan had had more refined tastes, opting for finer beverages usually found at the tables of royalty and aristocrats. Always wanting to tag along, Bastila had begged Revan to take her with them, just once, but always playing the role of protective older brother, he'd always refused. Finally, one day he'd sneaked a bottle of Alderaan wine into the Academy to give her a taste. She'd just finished a session in the dueling chambers and her throat was parched. Revan had poured her a very small amount, warning her of the effects alcohol could have on her tiny body. He'd been distracted, leaving her alone in the room with the entire bottle. When he came back, he'd found her lying on the floor, mumbling incoherently before passing out, having completely drained the bottle. All she'd known was that she was thirsty and the wine tasted good. Revan had immediately rushed her to the infirmary and spent every second of the next three days at her side, unable to forgive himself for letting his 'little sister' come to harm.

"Revan, this has to end. I was sent here to capture you, but I will kill you if I must."

Revan didn't speak, just stared out at the night sky.

"I can feel your fear. Do I frighten you, Bastila? Facing the Lord of the Sith alone, by yourself?"

"Revan…"

She held her lightsaber at the ready, watching his every move, waiting for him to draw his weapon. A formation of Sith fighters screamed past, illuminating the dimly lit room in a ghostly white light. He was dressed only in his black robes, a long cape draped over his shoulders. Since leaving for the Mandalorian Wars, it was said Revan never removed his armor or his mask. He had been the Republic's greatest hero and nobody had ever even seen his face. It was always hidden behind the omnipresent mask, a sinister, demonic-looking, metal armor piece that he wore under a black hood. But the mask was sitting on the arm of his chair, the light glinting off its gleaming surface. His face was hidden beneath the black hood of his cloak, the shadows obscuring his features.

"I have killed so many Jedi I lost count long ago. I felt nothing from them. Strange, is it not? It seems only yesterday I was one of them, striving to attain perfection in the ideals of the Jedi Order. And yet I always knew I was different. I had a destiny to fulfill unlike that of any other's. I knew I would have to destroy the Jedi Order, that which represented everything I'd ever known. I reconciled myself to that ages ago. But you… I never wanted this day to arrive. Yet I foresaw it, I knew you'd come for me…"

"You know I could never leave you, Revan. Not when I can still save you."

He laughed but there was no humor in his tone.

"Save me? From what?"

Bastila looked on him sadly.

"From yourself. I know there is still good in you, Revan. The man I knew isn't dead… he can't be."

"Of course not. He merely became something more and unleashed everything he was ever meant to be."

Reaching under his hood, he slowly drew it back and she gasped. All the Sith she'd ever seen were ghostly pale, like walking corpses. Malak, now Revan's greatest follower, was a reminder of the corruption of the dark side every time his image appeared on the holonet. Once a handsome young man, his fall to the dark side had twisted his body into a mockery of what he'd once been. His eyes had turned a sickly yellow, his once smiling face carrying a vicious scowl.

But Revan… Revan hadn't changed at all. His long, dark brown hair was pulled back from his tanned, chiseled features, tied back in a ponytail. Finely trimmed stubble surrounded a mouth that curled up at the edges in a slight smile. As it had always been though, it was his dark brown eyes… eyes that held such depth of passion she felt she could drown in them. But there was something slightly different about them. It was like a flickering light, a fire she had never seen before. It hypnotized her, drawing her in. Just as when he left, his was the most handsome face she'd ever seen. He looked like a prince, not the Dark Lord of the Sith.

"You were expecting something else."

She had expected to see a seething hatred in him, a burning rage in his eyes that all Sith had. There was fire in those eyes, that of anger but it was controlled. She could sense hatred in him but it wasn't directed at her. The mixture of emotions she was feeling from him was confusing, conflicted. The strongest by far though, was pain, a pain more horrible than any she'd ever felt.

"The power I wield is far greater than that of any Jedi. But it is not a power meant to be wielded by mortal men. The power of the dark side twists and corrupts the bodies of its followers. By giving themselves over to it, throwing themselves before its altar in as they lust after its power, their physical beings are destroyed, reflecting the decay within their souls."

Bastila couldn't tear her eyes from his face. His appearance hadn't changed but the glowing aura he'd once had was gone, replaced by… something else.

"But how did you… why do you look…"

"Normal? No, I've been changed. You feel it, don't you? There is a darkness in me, a taint that resides in my soul. My body remains unaffected because I am not like the others. I have the strength they do not. The power of the dark side destroys those unworthy to bear it."

His voice sounded calm, but she could sense something in him as he spoke. It wasn't fear, but a fatalistic acceptance of what he'd become.

"I can help you, Revan. I can still save you."

Revan looked at her and smiled. It was the smile of a dying man.

"You can't save me from this path I have chosen. You can't save someone who doesn't want to be saved."

"Revan?"

"There are things to be learned that cannot be taught in the halls of a Jedi Academy. Things one can only learn in the fires of war. I fought in every battle of the Mandalorian Wars from the moment I left the Order. And I learned."

He glanced at her for a moment and paused.

"I learned the meaning of strength. And I came to despise weakness. It is only through conflict that one can become strong. Those too weak to face conflict perish. That is the way of things."

His voice frightened her. He spoke the words with no emotion, completely detached.

"But you took an oath, Revan – as Jedi we all did: To protect the weak and defenseless. You always had… issues with the Jedi but you believed in that more strongly than anything. It was why you went to fight the Mandalorians!"

Revan shook his head.

"You misunderstand the meaning of true strength and weakness. There is a difference between the weakness of one unable to defend him or herself, and one unwilling to. To be truly strong is not to have the most physical strength, or the most men, or even the most weapons. True strength is the will to face conflict when it is forced upon us and challenge it. Whether we are strong enough to prevail is unimportant. For it is the act of resistance itself that strengthens us, not victory."

He laughed bitterly.

"And that is why the Jedi Order and your precious Republic will fall to me. Such strength, such power is available to the Jedi. The Force is an ally without equal, granting unimaginable freedom to those who would seize it. All my life I've been told I have a great destiny ahead of me. It got to the point where I began to take it for granted."

Revan took another sip from his glass.

"It is ironic it was the Jedi who first uttered that word to me. Destiny. In itself the word holds such promise, such power. But they held me back. The Jedi Council feared me. They feared what I knew, what I learned, what I could do with the Force. I could have done so much. I could have saved the galaxy with all the strength I held. They deliberated behind closed doors as the Outer Rim burned, as millions died… innocents the Jedi swore to protect."

The bitterness and pain she felt from him was heavy in the air, hanging thick like a dense fog. She could feel its terrible weight bearing heavily on her shoulders, almost choking her. Seeing such agony within him…

"The Jedi Council chose not to act because they saw something else, Revan, a threat lying beyond the Outer Rim out…" she tried to explain weakly but he cut her off with a sweep of his hand.

"They saw a threat. And they did nothing about it. I sensed it years ago and I sought it out. I was blind at the time. I sought it out thinking only of the power I would find – power to stop the Mandalorians, to make everything right. Even before the Mandalore Wars the Republic was a tired beast, waiting to die. Rotten to the core and plagued by corruption. I would have fixed it all, wiped out everything and started anew. I would have overseen a new golden age of the Republic, a new Republic, one far better than the old. But I never realized the price that I would have to pay."

"You sacrificed Malak and the others…" Bastila said softly.

Revan smiled thinly and cracked the glass he was holding in his hand, the crimson liquid mixing with the blood dripping from the cuts the shattered vessel made.

"No. They gave of themselves willingly. Malak chose his path, to follow me into the depths of the dark side. The others… I helped them in their descent but no one can force you to make the final decision to abandon the light. It is a conscious decision one must make for him or herself. I merely showed them the path. If they were too weak or foolish to resist temptation, they deserved their fate."

His voice was so cold, his words spoken with neither regret nor remorse. Malak had been like a brother to Revan… and Revan had spoken of him like he was nothing. She tried to tell herself it wasn't Revan speaking, it was the darkness that gripped him but in her heart Bastila wasn't sure. He looked directly at her and his voice softened.

"No… the price I paid was something far more… someone who meant so much more to me than I ever believed. I betrayed her… abandoned her to live out my ideals in war…"

"Revan…"

Tears began to form in Bastila's eyes.

"And I was deceived. Instead of salvation for the Republic I found something else… I tasted power and I knew I could never let it go. But my hunger has consumed me and I have become enslaved… I never told you, did I? I could always read you, see into your soul…" he smiled slightly, the same smile he used to share only with her in their times alone, "You could never hide much from me… too open with your emotions, your feelings always held too close to the surface. The Jedi believed it to be a weakness, as did I for a time."

He closed his eyes and looked down, seemingly afraid to meet her gaze.

"But in leaving you… I realized that was what I cherished most about you. Since the day we first met I've felt this urge, this need to protect you, to watch over you… you were dear to me and it killed me to see you struggle, to see your tears. You've always seemed so vulnerable to me and that may have been true but… I was blind. You have a strength within you, a determination to carry on that I never saw. You never needed me, but you let me into your heart and let yourself be vulnerable… for me. Your capacity to love has always been something I adored and… you loved me. I was a fool to have never told you this before but… I loved… love you too. More than anything else."

Revan bit his lip.

"But I threw it all away, I took what you had given me and shattered it, sacrificing you for what I believed in. It shouldn't have been like this… it… I could have had everything I ever wanted with you…"

The fire in his eyes had disappeared, burnt out and they glistened now. Revan, the one always known for his control and emotionless maturity… Revan was crying. She wanted to run to him and throw herself into his embrace, bury her head into his shoulder and weep. But the mission… she had been given a mission by the Jedi Council… she couldn't serve two masters…

"You have to come with me, Revan. This war can only end with your surrender, either to the Jedi or… to death."

She had to fight to force the words out, unable to look into his face as she half whispered the last word. She heard his lightsaber hissing to life, a long, crimson blade, a deep blood red she had never seen in a lightsaber before. Bastila lowered herself into a defensive stance, preparing for his assault. The battle would be a short one, she was sure of it. She was no match for him.

Revan didn't move. He just stood before her, lightsaber in hand, pointed at the deck unthreateningly.

"I won't give myself up to the Jedi Council. They are fools, too blind and arrogant to see beyond their vaunted code and archaic teachings. What do you think they would do with me if I came with you?"

Bastila spoke desperately, almost pleadingly.

"Please, Revan, they can help you!"

Revan's tear-filled eyes became angry.

"Of course they will 'help' me. After all, the Jedi do not believe in executing their prisoners, do they? No, they would strip me of the Force and exile me instead… make an example of me as to the fate of those who would dare defy the Council. I love you more than life itself but I can't do this, even for you."

He flourished his blade, sweeping it around his body in an arc of red.

"Do you see this blade? It is the same one I carried into the Mandalorian Wars, the same lightsaber built by my hands when I became a Knight. Do you remember what color it was, back then?"

She didn't even need to think before answering.

"Blue."

Revan nodded.

"Yes, blue. The blue of a Guardian. But I did not choose that color because of tradition. Mine was lighter, more alive. I chose it because it reminded me of you. The same beautiful blue I saw in your eyes. That was why I chose it. The crystal is bonded to me, it reflects my state of being. When I changed, when I gave myself to the way of power, it changed with me. I have fallen so far the crystal itself was twisted into a blood red. For one who has fallen as far as I…there can be only one sentence. Death."

He twirled the lightsaber around so the blade was pointed at himself and the hilt extended out to her.

"If you truly believe it is what you must do, take my blade and strike me down with it. Although I am unworthy of such a death, I wish it to be you who deals the killing blow."

His tears had dried but hers were flowing in torrents down her face.

"I… I can't, Revan… please…"

Revan bowed his head, allowing his hair to fall into his face.

"Then I will have to fight on. But know this: I no longer determine my path. I serve a master now… a master whose power is so great it might as well be limitless. He wishes me to conquer the Republic and destroy the Jedi. I dare not disobey. But one day… one day I promise you this… I will find him and I will destroy him, just as he has destroyed me."

The blade of his lightsaber disappeared as he replaced it on his belt.

"What about me? What about… us? I can't betray the Jedi for you, Revan."

"I would never ask that of you. Malak fell to the dark side. I would die before allowing that fate to befall you..."

He looked at her tenderly for a moment before pressing a button on the arm of his throne. A small panel slid open. He removed a datapad and handed it to her.

"There will be much fighting before this is over. I will crush the Republic and go to face my master. Either I will destroy him or he will destroy me. There is no other way. I want you to run, to hide. There are places in the galaxy where the Force is weak. My master has no interest in these places. If you go there, he will not be able to find you. The Force is neutral and seeks balance above all else. Even if I fail and perish before my master, there will be a time when the light side of the Force shall prevail once more."

He took a deep breath.

"I have a ship and escorts waiting for you. My men have orders to take you wherever you wish. May the Force watch over you because I cannot. I am sure there are many questions you wish to ask that must remain unanswered but all you must know is this: I love you, Bastila Shan, and I wish I hadn't been such a fool."

A tremor in the Force caught Revan's attention. He turned his head to see a bright flash of light envelop the side of Malak's flagship, the _Leviathan_.

_Who could he be firing at? The Republic fleet is in the other direction… _

Grabbing Bastila, he threw her to the deck, casting his body over hers as a turbolaser bolt ripped through the _Titan_'s unshielded hull. Alarm klaxons blared and he felt searing white shrapnel slice into his back. Taking her in his arms, he dragged himself to his feet and pulled her into the lift, barely managing to close the blast doors as the bridge depressurized. Gently laying her on her back, he collapsed. A warm liquid trickled down the side of his face, dripping in a pool beside his head. It was blood. Summoning all his remaining strength, Revan put his hand to the side of her face and tried to speak.

"Don't cry for me, sweetheart. I'm not worth your tears," he whispered as the world around him faded into darkness…


	2. Chapter 1

Bastila was too exhausted to cry anymore. She'd spent almost every waking moment at Revan's side since their escape from the _Titan_. Revan's sacrifice in throwing himself over her had shielded her from the impact of the blast but it had almost killed him. His wounds had been so terrible, her healing trance had had almost no effect. Years earlier, Revan had formed a Force bond with her to aid her in her training. With Revan losing blood and fading quickly, in desperation, she'd reached out through the bond and tied his life to hers, using the Force to preserve the flicker of life in his body. In the confusion of Malak's betrayal, ships loyal to both Sith lords had broken off their assault on the Republic fleet and turned on each other. As the Sith fleet disintegrated into a disorganized mess of confused warships shooting each other, Bastila managed to drag Revan to an escape pod before his flagship exploded. 

The looks she'd gotten from the Republic soldiers when she returned with his body were murderous. The Jedi Council had had to intervene to prevent the Republic from dragging Revan back to Coruscant for a public execution. Instead of staying at the Jedi Temple on Coruscant, his comatose form had been sent to Dantooine for his own safety. Even in his incapacitated state, he was treated like a pariah at the Enclave. Bastila's isolation from her Jedi peers became more acute than ever before.

None of it mattered though. All that mattered was that she had to be with Revan, her Revan. The doctors, amongst them many of the Republic's brightest medical minds, had all said the same thing: Revan wouldn't survive his injuries. The damage done to his body was too great, too much for even one as powerful as Revan to endure. But Bastila had never given up hope. She stayed with him, watched his broken body float in the kolto tank, tears running down her cheeks as she pressed her hands against the glass, wanting to touch him, wanting him to open his eyes and smile softly at her as he used to before… his fall.

The doctors were both right and wrong. Physically, the young warrior's recovery was incredible. Defying all odds, he healed at an extraordinary rate, his flesh mending itself right before their eyes. The doctors had said he wouldn't live past a week. He was out of the kolto tank in less than a month. A few faint scars running down his lower back were the only reminders of his brush with death. Revan's iron will to live and persevere were too strong, his connection to the Force too powerful to allow him to die.

But his mind was a different matter. The trauma and massive amount of blood he'd lost had almost obliterated his mind. He had made no progress and the doctors said the chance of recovery was slim. He would wake up… someday. Whether he would ever be the same…

The thought was too much to bear.

"Why, Revan? Why did it have to be you to save the Republic? Why did you have to be so… brave?" she whispered to him. His fierce idealism and devotion to his interpretation of the tenets of the Jedi Order had drawn him into the Mandalorian Wars. He had always been so strong, so stubborn. He would not have been able to live with himself if he hadn't gone to fight. It was in his blood; to do what he felt was just, to right the wrongs of the universe. And in the end, his nobility had betrayed him.

Bastila felt a hand on her shoulder. It was Master Zhar, one of Revan's first masters. The kindly Twi'lek looked at her with concern.

"There is nothing more you can do for him, child. You should rest."

She was exhausted. Every time she closed her eyes to find rest, she went back to that final moment with him, cradling his broken body in her arms as he whispered a final goodbye. When she did manage to drift off, her dreams were troubled and she awoke feeling emotionally and psychologically drained.

"No… I want to be the first thing he sees when he awakes. He needs me to be here for him… He… Revan… Revan sacrificed himself to save me, Master."

A sympathetic smile crossed Master Zhar's face.

"And we have decided to save his. The Force has a role for each of us to play… and he has not yet finished his."

Bastila looked up hopefully, her blue eyes showing life for the first time in weeks. Master Vrook walked into the room, the expression on his face grim, as always.

"Yes, it seems despite your lack of judgment in bringing this… outcast back, you may have given us a chance to defeat the Sith."

Confusion played across Bastila's face. Master Dorak, following closely behind Vrook, tried to explain.

"As you know, the Sith seem to have unlimited resources. When Revan first returned from the Unknown Regions, he boasted a fleet five times larger than that he left with. Some of these ships were old Republic vessels but the bulk of his fleet was made up of ships built in a configuration no one had ever seen before. None of the major ship building guilds have delivered any orders other than to the Republic. All Republic Intelligence has been able to determine is that a nonstop stream of war material is fueling the Sith war effort from somewhere in the uncharted regions of the galaxy. Reconnaissance efforts have been completely futile. But in Revan's last battle, when Malak betrayed him, a number of officers loyal to Revan defected back to the Republic, providing us with some much needed information. One of Revan's personal aides spoke of something he overheard Revan discussing with his apprentice. Something called the 'Star Forge'."

Bastila frowned. Something was going on. The Masters weren't here to give her a history lesson. She didn't know what the Masters had planned and she wasn't sure she was going to like it. Bastila glanced at Master Zhar but his face was blank, telling her nothing. Master Dorak continued.

"Unfortunately, we know nothing of the Star Forge's location, or even what it is. Revan and Malak told no one, not even their most senior officers. The secrets of the Star Forge are buried in the minds of Malak and Revan. You have stayed here with Revan in the weeks since his betrayal but no doubt you have heard whispers of what has transpired since his capture. Strictly speaking, your mission was a success. Through Malak's actions, Revan was neutralized. However, Revan's demise has had unforeseen consequences regarding the Sith."

Master Dorak took a deep breath.

"Malak has taken the title of Dark Lord of the Sith. The transition has been flawless. Malak had been planning to betray his master for some time. While he isn't even half the commander Revan was, Malak has more than made up for this with his brutality. Revan conquered half the Republic but he preserved much of what he captured. Malak has none of his master's subtleties. Revan's goals were never clear but Malak is much easier to understand. Since the coup he has razed thirteen worlds. Malak seeks only to destroy and his strategy is simple: He plans on crushing Republic forces with an endless stream of reinforcements. If this Star Forge is the source from which his resources flow, I fear it is only a matter of time before we succumb under sheer weight of numbers."

Bastila's eyes went back to Revan. He looked like he was at peace, his chest slowly rising and falling with each breath.

"You wish to probe his mind?"

Master Vrook sighed.

"There are techniques through the Force by which one can hide their presence. These techniques can be used to shield a Jedi, or a Sith, against mental interference. Revan has undoubtedly learned techniques to protect himself against any attempt to delve into his mind. If he is to give up his secrets, it will have to be willingly."

The words came out slowly as she tried to comprehend what Master Vrook was trying to tell her.

"You… you plan to bring him back? But… the doctors said…"

"Nothing is impossible through the Force. There are methods by which he can be healed. They are seldom used because of the inherent danger in exercising the full power of the Force, both to the healer and the one to be healed. But Revan is strong both in body and mind and we have no other choice."

Bastila wanted to throw her arms around the stern Jedi Master and kiss him.

"But we will not restore him as Revan. He will be given a new identity. It is too dangerous to bring one of Revan's power back. He was rash and impulsive, even as a Jedi. When we are done, he will remember nothing of his former life. The secrets he holds will remain, but nothing else."

Her feelings of hope and optimism left her, replaced by a sensation that felt as if she had been struck in the stomach. She had to fight to keep from falling to the ground.

"Master… Revan redeemed himself… I felt it in him… I have already related what he said on the _Titan_. Revan returned to the light!"

Master Vrook shook his head in an admonishing manner.

"Is that what you believe? Lies, dishonesty, these are the ways of the dark side. Revan wields power unrivaled since the times of Exar Kun forty years ago. He always had a silver tongue and he is well versed in deceit. You let your feelings for him cloud your judgment."

The blow to her gut slowly became an emptiness, like she was falling. She barely felt Master Zhar put an arm around her.

"I'm sorry, Bastila. There is no other way."

* * *

Revan could hear voices. He faintly remembered blacking out on the bridge of the _Titan_. His next memory had been of the foul stench of kolto, the miraculous healing substance used for grievously wounded patients. Master Vrook was right to respect Revan's knowledge of the Force, but he had underestimated his strength. In all the time the doctors had thought his mind destroyed, he had been fully aware of his surroundings. He had buried his mind, removing any traces of brain activity, giving the illusion of a coma. He had felt Bastila's tears, still warm as she buried her head in her arms, folding them against his chest. He wanted so badly to kiss them away, to tell her everything would be alright, but he couldn't reveal himself… not yet. However he felt for her, however much guilt and sorrow he felt at hurting her, his distrust of the Jedi Council had not changed. He heard talk of the Star Forge and felt strong feelings of regret and guilt coursing through him. 

_The Star Forge. I rue the day I discovered its existence. I wish I could go back and destroy it. But we needed it…_

The Star Forge had cost him his best friend, a brother. Malak had been transformed before his eyes from a vibrant, idealistic knight into a cold-blooded monster, reveling in whatever pain and misery he could inflict on a shattered galaxy. He had expected betrayal from one of his Sith followers eventually, but he had never suspected it would be Malak plunging the knife in his back. He had been betrayed… just as the Jedi Council had betrayed him years before.

Bastila's voice was the sweetest thing he'd ever heard. Others gathered around him and Revan recognized all of them. Master Zhar, Master Vrook, Master Dorak… all men he'd once respected for their wisdom and vision. The contempt he felt for the Jedi Masters was only exceeded by his anger as he heard them speak.

_So you wish to destroy me? To use me as you would one of the mindless drones of your Order? You will find the mind of a Sith Lord is not easily broken, you old fool._

He had to fight the urge to reach out with the Force and snatch the lightsaber from Vrook's belt and strike him down with it. But Master Dorak's words to Bastila sent a chill up his spine.

_Malak will destroy everything. The beast has escaped its handler. _

The Sith had been a tool, a dangerous weapon he wielded. Even in his hands, he had barely been able to control them. With Malak at their head, they would destroy everything he'd fought for. They would destroy the galaxy he'd sought to protect. Though it angered him, he realized he would need the Jedi as much as they needed him if he was still to complete his mission. If only his 'allies' weren't such fools.

"_Please, anything but this!"_

Bastila's voice tore at him. There was so much more at stake than his sense of self if the Jedi attempted to wipe his mind. With their feeble grasp of the Force he would be easily able to resist their crude attempts to erase his identity but the damage they would do would be catastrophic. In his countless hours of study in the teachings of ancient writings, of holocrons, both Jedi and Sith, Revan had fortified himself against mental attack. As a safeguard against intrusion, he had programmed his memory at an incredibly complex level.

Sensitive information, knowledge that could compromise him would be buried so deep not even he would be able to retrieve it. It would take some hidden external stimuli to unlock it. With those parts of his memory buried, he would have no way of recovering the information. Only Malak knew how to unlock his mind and vice versa. It had seemed a perfect system when he had devised it. Capture by the Jedi would reveal nothing of his plans.

Revan cursed: Himself for his 'ingenuity'. Malak for his betrayal. And the Jedi for their idiocy. If he hoped to stop Malak, the Star Forge would have to be destroyed. But the Star Forge would be hidden amongst the parts of his memory that would be irreparably scrambled.

_Damn the Jedi!_

If he had been able to control his body, tears of frustration would have welled up in his eyes. Bastila pleaded with the Masters to spare him and he could sense the desperation in her. It broke his heart knowing he had caused her this pain.

_Damn Malak! Damn the Mandalorians! Damn the Republic! Damn my pride! Damn my foolishness! Damn it all to hell! _

* * *

"Lieutenant Qelas Stasia, Serial No. 027-A384967, 182nd Special Reconnaissance Group… 24 years of age, homeworld Deralia… parents deceased, no siblings… elite combat training, finished second in his class at Republic Command Academy, Coruscant… decorated seven times for valor…" 

Each new detail of Revan's alter ego stabbed into Bastila like a knife. The operation had gone perfectly, with no complications. Revan was… gone. All that remained was his shell. Whoever he was, he was no longer Revan.

"I'm sorry, Revan… I tried to stop them…"

She mouthed the words as much for her own benefit as his. She had failed him, she had let them murder him.

* * *

Revan's fears were realized as he felt pain shooting through his head. It was like watching a holovid being played backwards at full speed. Names and locations were disappearing from his memory and he was helpless to stop the loss. The mental safeguards he had placed could not be shut down, even by himself. And then it was over. He had retained his identity but lost everything else. Huge gaps in his memory fragmented everything he remembered from the end of the Mandalorian Wars. The fragile identity the Jedi had clumsily placed to mask their crime seemed to mock him. Every detail of his alter ego's life was as clear to him as if it were his own life. It wouldn't be difficult to switch between that which made him Revan and this façade, but his revulsion at the Jedi had never been greater. A burning hatred of the Jedi flowed through his veins, awakening the taint of the dark side within him. It took all his strength to prevent it from taking over once more. 

He heard quiet sobbing. It was Bastila.

_Everything will be alright, baby girl. I promise._

* * *

Sato Kast stepped off the freighter and took a deep breath. With the hordes of new refugees fleeing Malak, freight captains who normally made their living transporting mundane cargos for modest pay suddenly found a new, much more profitable market for their services. Every day it seemed, another long line of ugly freight carriers touched down on Coruscant, delivering its living cargo. The stench of desperate people packed in like livestock had hung in the air so densely he imagined he could have cut it with a knife. Compared to the freighter, even the filthy, polluted atmosphere of Coruscant seemed fresh. 

When Malak's flagship had first fired on the _Titan_, Sato had known immediately Revan was dead. He had vacated the bridge along with the rest of his men, following Revan's orders. With the battle almost over, the _Titan_'s shields had been powered down along the side facing the Sith fleet. The salvo the _Leviathan _had poured into Revan's ship had cut through the durasteel plating like paper. Everyone on the bridge was wiped out with the first hit. As Malak systematically raked the floundering _Titan _with more fire, Sato had known it wouldn't be long before the _Titan_'s main reactors were hit, turning the Sith dreadnought into space dust. The escape pods had been one of Malak's first targets, causing panic in the ranks of Revan's crew. The new Sith Lord knew he couldn't let any loyal to his old master survive. But as Revan's personal bodyguard, Sato knew Revan kept his small personal fighter in a hidden hanger near the bridge. Facing away from Malak's fire and heavily armored, the hanger had survived. Taking Revan's ship, Sato had managed to escape just as the reactors exploded, consuming the mighty _Titan_ in a ball of flame reportedly seen even light years away. Out of a crew of almost twenty thousand, he was the only survivor.

Malak had hunted down Revan's Imperial Guard after the battle, dispatching the deadly Sith assassins Revan had trained to hunt Jedi after the former Dark Lord's protectors. Already few in number after Revan's ambush, it hadn't taken long for the disorganized survivors to be eliminated. As far as Sato knew, he was the last of Revan's elite bodyguard core. He was a survivor, he had always been. Waving down one of the ubiquitous yellow Coruscant air taxis, he climbed in and paid the driver, adding a generous bonus on top of the standard fare.

"Take me to the bounty office. And no questions."

* * *

Carth Onasi's nerves were completely frayed. He'd spent yet another sleepless night loading and unloading cargo onto the _Endar Spire_, struggling to tailor the ship to the exact specifications given to him by the Jedi. Already he had assigned crews to tear out most of the communications array and practically stripped the ship down to its frame replacing this gizmo and that gadget. He yawned. He hadn't slept in three days. Carth shook his head. He should be used to this by now. The Republic Fleet was his life. Completely dedicated, on the surface he was the perfect soldier, a true patriot. In truth, his fanatical dedication to the Fleet was because he had nothing else left to hold onto. 

"No! What do you think you're doing soldier? These compartments are reserved for mission-specific equipment! Standard supplies go in the stern of the ship!"

He'd had a life once. A family, wife, son, beautiful home on the beloved planet of his birth. All of it had been taken away in a few hours. Three hours of surface bombardment by a Sith battle fleet led by a man he'd once considered a friend and mentor. Telos, his homeworld, all he'd ever known and loved, was completely gone.

It had been one of the first worlds destroyed when Darth Revan's armada returned from the depths of space. Admiral Saul Karath, a man he'd looked up to his entire career, had been at the head of the fleet, giving the command as Sith dreadnoughts lined up above the planet and opened fire. The worse part was, Telos hadn't even been a military target. It had been razed as a test of loyalty for Saul when he turned to the Sith – a test he passed with flying colors.

_I swear I'll kill you for that Saul. I'll find you someday… and when that day comes I'll make you pay…_

Carth sighed. He couldn't remember how many times he'd sworn that oath, a promise to his beloved wife, a vow he seemed further than ever from fulfilling. Every day while the Republic got weaker, the Sith armada under Admiral Karath's command claimed another victory. With Darth Revan gone, his traitorous apprentice Malak had relied heavily on Admiral Karath's military experience – experience he'd earned defending the Republic he was now set on destroying. But this mission would change all that, or so the Jedi said. Darth Malak would be stopped, the Sith menace would be destroyed, the traitors who followed Malak brought to justice.

_The Jedi have been saying that since this war began. I'll believe it when I see it._

He didn't even know anything about this mission other than its departure date. Everything on this mission was top secret, classified at the highest levels, information distributed on a need-to-know basis. Like all of the senior staff and most of the crew, he'd been handpicked for this mission, pulled from his place on the bridge of the _Renown_, a small frigate raiding Sith supply lines and given vague orders to report to location such-and-such and report to admiral so-and-so for a briefing. Carth ground his teeth together.

_Why is it everything the Jedi do has to be 'classified'? For all their talk of the virtues of honesty and integrity, they sure do keep a lot of secrets._

It was only three in the morning, about four hours until sunrise on Coruscant. The _Endar Spire _was supposed to depart at 06:00 hours, the next day. He would have a lot of work to do if they were going to be ready.

"Commander Onasi, have you processed the crew manifest I requested yesterday?"

Carth felt like pulling his hair out.

"No, Miss Shan, I haven't. The crew roster hasn't even been finalized. Data on the exact makeup of the personnel on this mission is still largely restricted – as per your orders, Ma'am."

He said 'ma'am' in an annoyed tone. All the secrecy was bad enough, but what was worse had been taking orders from a spoiled teenager almost young enough to be his daughter. Just like everyone else in the Republic, Carth knew all about Bastila's amazing Battle Meditation and while he was definitely grateful she was on their side, it didn't mean they had to get along personally.

"Well as soon as this information is available, I'd like you to deliver the document to my quarters."

Carth let out a silent sigh of relief she let him go so easily. Bastila and the rest of the Jedi had only shown up two days ago but already the 'Jedi princess', as she was being dubbed, was getting on everyone's nerves.

_The things I do for the Republic. _

* * *

The apartment manager looked up from her desk at the sound of knocking. Frowning, she rose to her feet and walked to the door. It was almost three in the morning. Who would come calling at this ungodly hour? When she unlocked the door, a young man stood before her. He was tall, with dark brown eyes that matched his hair. He had a handsome face that she recognized. How could she not? Two hundred credits slipped under the table each month on top of the normal rent could keep anybody's memory fresh. This one particularly treasured his privacy and paid her to keep her mouth shut about his comings and goings. 

It really didn't matter. She didn't know that much about him and didn't really want to. Anybody who was willing to pay that much to remain hidden wasn't somebody she wanted to anger. But she was still surprised to see him. It had been almost a year since she'd seen him last. Normally, she would have rented his apartment out again after such a long absence, but as long as the credits kept rolling in, she was willing to make an exception.

"I'm very sorry to be disturbing you at such an hour ma'am, but I lost my keycard at the spaceport along with my luggage."

His polite manner was something that also stood out in her mind. He was unlike any of the other tenants at the rundown apartment. From his cultured manner, she had always been sure he was some sort of a spy or agent, using the apartment as a hideaway. Maybe even a criminal Exchange operative. She shuddered at that thought.

"Of course, Mr. Kun, I understand. Just give me a moment… here you go."

* * *

The Coruscant sun was just peeking over the horizon, bathing the planet in an eerie blood-red light. Revan opened his eyes, pulling himself slowly from the floor where he'd fallen asleep. He was glad he'd rented the apartment earlier on during the Mandalorian Wars. It had served as a base of operations and a storage space for the few occasions he had to spend time at Republic Fleet headquarters on Coruscant. He'd maintained it all through his long hiatus after the war and even after his return to Republic space. Since he'd been so careful to hide his face and identity during the Mandalorian Wars, he was able to move throughout Republic space largely with impunity, like a ghost, gathering information and establishing contact networks that stretched all the way from the Outer Rim to the halls of the Galactic Senate. This apartment had served as his safe house. 

It wasn't fancy, but it was better than staying in the spartan accommodations at the nearby military base the Republic called 'barracks'. Revan smiled at the thought. As soon as they had seen the inside of the hideous, gray, concrete structure, almost all of the soldiers had immediately requested they be allowed to find accommodations somewhere off base.

_My first day as a soldier. This should be interesting._

The Jedi had done everything short of giving him cosmetic surgery in establishing his new identity. Financial records, criminal records, a completely new past and personal history. When he'd checked out of the infirmary, the nurse had handed him a pack containing his standard issue equipment and told him he'd received orders from his 'superiors' to report to Coruscant for a special assignment. Careful to research every pertinent detail of his new alias, Revan knew the 182nd Special Reconnaissance Group well. It was no coincidence his alter ego had been assigned to this unit. An elite commando force, soldiers from the 182nd were the best the Republic could offer. Men from the unit were often assigned without warning to sensitive missions. They also often disappeared on battlefields nobody had ever heard of, their names buried in confidential files rather than commemorated at monuments to Republic war dead.

_If whatever mission the Council has planned for me fails, nobody will ever know I existed. _

The roots of the 182nd lay in the Mandalorian Wars. Its origins were shrouded in secrecy, its founder and the circumstances behind its creation a mystery. That was because the founder was himself. Seeing the effectiveness of small squads of Mandalorian shock troops against clumsy Republic armies, he'd immediately created several elite units mirroring the Mandalorian model. The 182nd had been one of these pioneer units.

Revan had actually followed the unit into battle for its first mission, although no one would ever know. He'd hidden his face behind an armored mask and become just another faceless soldier. As a military commander, Revan had been a firm believer in seeing a battlefield with his own two eyes, feeling the flow of a skirmish by immersing himself in it. Often shedding his robes and donning the simple uniform of a foot soldier, he'd journeyed to the front often. Though it had been looked upon with disdain by other Jedi, even those who'd followed him and been exiled from the Order, Revan had spent many hours training with common soldiers, working to become proficient with as many weapons as he could, from light carbine blasters to heavy repeaters. It wouldn't be much of a challenge passing himself off as a commando.

Shading his eyes from the early morning light, he slowly pulled on his clothes, a pair of black combat trousers and a simple shirt. Rolling up the sleeves to just above his elbows, he strapped on his body armor. For all their efforts at passing him off as a soldier, the equipment he had been issued by the Jedi would have been a dead giveaway. Elite troops like those of the 182nd were made up of veterans, men who'd seen war and tasted blood. Their equipment tended to be an odd mix of standard and substandard. The weapons and armor the Republic issued to its soldiers was heavy and unwieldy, fine for action on the ground at the frontlines where protection and firepower were a priority, but hardly ideal for those who had to be able to move, like on a ship or for commando infantry. The armor Revan pulled over his shoulders was based loosely on that worn by Mandalorian scout troops. Made of an expensive durasteel alloy, it was light and allowed him a full range of movement but was still just as protective as the full body armor suits issued by the Republic. The well-worn, charcoal black finish was designed to virtually disappear from infrared sensors, making the wearer practically invisible in low light. Going to the refresher, Revan looked at himself in the mirror. He'd never had very heavy facial hair but after two days without shaving, he had a healthy amount of stubble covering his lower face. Deciding not to worry about it, he ran his fingers through his hair. The almost shoulder-length locks would have to go. Pulling a long knife from the scabbard strapped to his lower calf, he cut his hair down to a more manageable length.

In two hours time, the _Endar Spire_ would be leaving. He had to be on the landing platform with at least a half hour to spare. Grabbing his heavy pack from the bed, he slung a light carbine over his shoulder and stepped into the hall.

* * *

Bastila slipped out of her robe, stepping into the shower and closing her eyes for a moment, savoring the feeling of the warm water against her bare skin. Today was the day she'd be embarking on her first mission as a fleet commander, a day she would have been looking forward to if not for the circumstances. Whenever she'd been sent to battle, it had always been under the guidance of another Jedi, normally a Master, and it was always on a huge dreadnought in the back of the fleet where she could be protected. She had chafed at this, knowing much less accomplished Jedi already had fleets of their own to command. Though she knew how valuable her Battle Meditation was, she'd always felt so useless at the rear, seemingly unable to do anything directly to influence the course of a battle. It wasn't that she liked war, it was just she had received command training just like every other Jedi and she wanted the chance to prove herself, to prove she wasn't another eighteen-year-old Padawan. She had begged the Council for a mission of her own for a long time and now she had it. 

_It seems fate, or the Force, is not without a sense of irony. _

The mission seemed simple enough. A small task force led by the cruiser _Endar Spire_ was to embark on a patrol to the Outer Rim, presumably on a secret reconnaissance mission probing for weak points in the Sith lines. What the mission really was however, only she, the Council, and a few of the other more senior Jedi knew. Somewhere in the contingent of six hundred soldiers accompanying them was a commando, a Lieutenant Qelas Stasia, Revan's new identity. The task force's real mission was to take him back to his old Mandalorian War battlefields, to places he had visited before he'd returned to the Republic as a conquering Sith Lord.

The operation had seemed successful at first. Revan had taken to his new identity perfectly. But try as the Council might, they could not get him to reveal anything. The information they sought was gone, buried somewhere deep in his subconscious. If any of this information was to be recovered, it would have to be triggered by some sort of external stimuli, quite possibly one of his old Mandalorian War battlefields. It would most likely be Malachor, setting for the horrific battle that ended the Mandalore War, or possibly Onderon, his first command. In truth though, it could be any place or any thing he had encountered over the last three years. The mission was a stab into the dark, another act of desperation by a Republic running out of time.

Bastila felt hollow. Despite what the Council had said, that there was no other choice, that this was Revan's chance to redeem himself for all the evil he'd done, it tore her apart, lying to him and using him like this. The Revan she knew may have been dead, but she couldn't help but feel, and hope, that a part of him still lived in his new identity.

_I could have stopped them. I could have tried harder to save him. _

She turned off the water and dried her hair, braiding it back into two short ponytails. Pulling a few strands out from behind her ears, she let them fall alongside her temples, framing her face on either side. A lot of other female Jedi had cut their hair short to keep it from falling in their faces, something she'd considered doing once. When she asked Revan for his opinion though, he'd laughed.

"Bastila, being practical is important, but there is a point where you're going too far. Jedi or not, you're the prettiest girl I've ever laid my eyes upon and it seems you've become more beautiful with each passing day. Why you would even think of cutting your hair to look like a boy is beyond me. Even Jedi have to be allowed to take pride in how they look."

She'd beamed at his compliment and decided on braiding it and tying it back as a compromise. She thought it made her look like a little girl, something she definitely didn't want, but when Revan first saw her, his eyes had lit up and she'd known then she'd made the right choice. A simple smile, that was all that was needed for him to tell her exactly what he thought.

_I would give anything to have him look at me like that again._

Scolding herself for letting her feelings for him rise to the surface, she slipped into her Jedi robes and clipped her lightsaber to her belt.

_I have a mission. The Jedi Council and the Republic are counting on me to accomplish it._


	3. Chapter 2

Revan's dark brown eyes took in the chaos of the mass of soldiers and sailors boarding the _Endar Spire_ with interest. Unlike most of the warships he'd seen departing Coruscant, their crew contingents made up of mostly green troops and fresh recruits, the _Endar Spire_'s crew compliment seemed to be made up of mostly older, more experienced men, mostly in their mid twenties to early thirties. He smiled grimly. In peacetime these men would still be considered young, just entering the prime of their lives. Now, in the midst of war, any soldier who lived to see thirty was a senior citizen.

Shading the early morning sun from his eyes with the back of his hand, he threw his pack over his shoulder. As his hand brushed over his belt, he instinctively reached down to the loop where his lightsaber should be. Instead of a cool, metallic cylinder, he felt the rough handle of a heavy combat blaster. He'd known it before, but it had just hung lazily in the back of his head, not fully conscious of it.

_I'm not a Jedi anymore. _

He wondered if he would ever bear that title again. Dark Jedi or Jedi, he realized his lightsaber had meant so much more to him than being simply a weapon. It had been an ever-present fixture in his life since he built his first when he was only nine. Having it, knowing it was there… it was a safety net. When he wielded it in battle, it became an extension of his arm, a physical manifestation of the power of the Force that flowed through him thicker than blood.

Revan closed his eyes. The Force still coursed through him, a living thing he formed a symbiotic relationship with. Whatever the Jedi had done to his mind, they could never take it away from him. It was in many ways more a part of him than his arm, or any other part of his body. But if this elaborate hoax were to work, if the Jedi Council were truly to be fooled into thinking their mind wipe successful, he would have to cut himself off from it, live without it.

Looking up, he spotted a small group of young men and women boarding the ship, dressed not in Republic uniforms but simple brown robes. The razor sharp eyes that had made him such a deadly pilot in the Mandalorian Wars spotted her, leading the small Jedi procession. Illuminated in the early morning sun, Bastila looked like a dream, the halo of light outlining her slender figure making her appear as a cherub. He wondered if she'd noticed him. Just then, a gust of wind blew over the platform, sweeping her light brown bangs across her face. As she brought her hand up to brush her hair back, she turned her head and he felt her gaze fall over him. She had a serious, mature expression on her face, the passionless stoicism of a true Jedi. But her deep, azure eyes held a childlike innocence, revealing a glimpse of the shy little girl who'd melted his heart years ago. He was struck by an overwhelming urge to protect her, to watch over her just as he had so long ago. There was a haunting sadness in those eyes, just as he remembered on the bridge of his ship before Malak's betrayal and he was struck by guilt, knowing he had placed it there.

His cause had seemed so just when he'd first set off to war, tearing his Jedi robes and throwing them at the feet of the Jedi Council to stride off on his crusade against the Mandalorians. They had to be stopped or the Republic would fall and countless multitudes would suffer. Any doubts of the righteousness of his cause were obliterated whenever he witnessed the aftermath of a Mandalorian assault. They were ruthless, falling from the sky riding their Basilisk War Droids, strafing civilian and military targets alike.

"_If the Republic won't come out to fight, we will smoke them out of their miserable holes, one city at a time!" _

The words of Mandalore, the warrior leader of the Clans still rang in his ears. The bodies of the dead had piled up in the streets. Some were soldiers. Most were not. Men, women, children, all were fair game to the ruthless Mandalorians. What he did, it had to be done. He had thought himself so selfless and noble at the time, casting off everything he'd ever known as a Jedi, his entire former life left behind to fight.

And then he'd met _them_ and realized the fight against the Mandalorians was never the true war. They'd taken him and made him their slave, used him as a proxy. Seemingly obedient to their will, he'd turned on the Republic, falling on the Jedi like a demon, destroying the Order that had literally raised him almost from birth. But he'd fought back in subtle ways, setting the stage for the day he would throw off their yoke and turn his full fury on them. The light side of the Force may have been the path to true serenity and understanding, but it was only through the darker side that he would have the power to fight. Win or lose, he would have given the galaxy a chance to survive. By focusing on converting Jedi rather than murdering them, he had ensured himself an army to beat back his master if he won. If he lost and the Republic prevailed, the conflict would have strengthened the Jedi and opened their eyes to true power, the power needed to defend the galaxy. But Malak had destroyed it all. All of Revan's planning, his manipulations had been swept away by his former apprentice's mad lust for power and destruction.

Whatever his feelings towards the Jedi and the feeble Republic they served, Revan knew this war had to be fought. Malak had to be stopped. Even if it meant turning his back on everything he'd ever believed in, and seizing the power of the darkness once more as his weapon. But as he looked into her eyes, he was tormented by self-doubt.

_But what is it you fight for if in the process you lose that which you cherish most?_

* * *

"Going out for a breath of fresh air, Revan?" 

Revan turned his hand in surprise to see a tall, lanky figure catch up to him in the hall. Malak's cool, gray eyes looked mischievous as he threw an arm over his best friend's shoulder. Cupping the small, wrapped box in his hand behind his back, he shrugged.

"Perhaps. Or maybe I'm getting a drink, or looking for some sustenance. Why does it concern you?"

Malak chuckled softly, not wanting to make too much noise. Curfew at the Jedi Academy would fall in a few minutes and he wasn't sure if being caught out of their rooms might have consequences. Malak was almost a Knight now, a Padawan in name only so there probably wasn't much any of the Jedi Masters could do, but the thought of Master Vrook suddenly appearing from nowhere as he always did didn't exactly appeal to him.

"Because you're lying to my face and I can tell. What's that package you've got behind your back?"

Before Revan could react, Malak had grabbed the package from his hand, a tiny box with a bow on it, a jewelry box. Malak opened it and let out an impressed whistle. Within was a beautiful crystal pendant, carved from a sparkling gem that reflected the soft light through a slightly yellow prism.

"If I'm not mistaken, this is a lightsaber crystal. The focusing crystal of a Sentinel, judging from the color. But it's been cut, useless in a lightsaber now. Not exactly the best use of a crystal if you ask me, although I do appreciate the craftsmanship. What's it for Revan? Unless you've decided to further explore your more feminine side… hmmm, judging from the packaging, I highly doubt it's for you. This wouldn't be a present for a certain blue-eyed apprentice, would it?" Malak winked, eliciting a sigh from his friend.

"Very well, you've caught me. Yes, it's a present for Bastila. It's her birthday in a few days, after all, her fourteenth."

"I'd forgotten. Where'd you get the credits for that anyways? It couldn't have been cheap and if I know you as well as I think I do, you haven't a single credit to your name after Rele's ascension party last week."

Revan laughed. Rele was another Jedi, two years older than Revan but one year younger than Malak. Revan hadn't known much about her, other than she was finishing her trials and about to become a Knight. Twenty-three was slightly young to take the trials, but from what he'd heard, Rele was a Jedi with great potential. Becoming a Knight was an achievement reached by very few but it was something each Padawan usually celebrated privately. Overly grandiose expressions were frowned upon by the Jedi Order. So it had been quite a surprise when Malak had announced he was throwing a party for her. Or rather, it had been a surprise for everyone but Revan. Having known Malak as long as he had, it hadn't taken much for Revan to read Malak's intentions with the frequent side glances he had been shooting Rele.

Romance was forbidden among Jedi, but it had never kept many of the younger Jedi from harmless flirting. The Jedi Masters didn't approve of course, but all any of them could do was shake their heads disapprovingly and dispense a lecture once in a while. Master Vrook had tried more active measures in the past to prevent such activities but there really wasn't anything he could do to fight overactive hormones. Revan, with his princely air, handsome good looks and deep brown eyes elicited dreamy stares from female Jedi often but he had made the decision not to partake in the games.

Malak's attitude was the complete opposite. He was notorious for his boldness towards the fairer sex, charming them with flowers and poems and the like. It wasn't that Malak was some sort of hopeless romantic. Flirting for him was just another game, another challenge to see if his affections would be returned with a nervous giggle or a peck on the cheek. Malak had had his eyes on Rele for months. With her big brown eyes and petite, athletic frame, Revan had to admit she wasn't bad to look at. But she had been more than Malak's equal, playing hard-to-get with him, toying with him constantly. In an act of desperation, Malak had thrown the party for her, hoping to finally win her over. It had been quite amusing to see his overconfident friend shot down, right in front of all his peers. The good-natured Malak hadn't held a grudge, but he had been thoroughly embarrassed, something Revan had warned him was coming his way for some time.

"Well if you know me as well as you believe you do, you should remember I always have something for Bastila on her birthday. Speaking of which, why don't you join me? I'm sure she'd be pleased to see you."

Malak smiled but shook his head.

"Don't be so sure. I don't think she's as fond of me as you think. I think she finds me intimidating or something of the sort. It's difficult being in the presence of one as handsome as myself."

Revan laughed as Malak glared at him.

"I'm glad you find that amusing. I know I'm much better looking than you!"

"Of course, Malak, of course. I'm sure the bald look goes over well with the ladies."

Malak swung at him but missed as Revan gave him a wink.

"She's also incredibly shy, in case you haven't noticed. You're the only one she ever opens up to. Besides, we've got a big day ahead of us tomorrow, and I have to prepare that briefing for Admiral Karath when he arrives. You should think about that as well. When the Jedi Council decides to stop dragging its feet, we'll be ready to join the fight against the Mandalorians, even if the rest of the Order isn't."

Revan nodded. The Jedi Council on Coruscant had been deliberating for months on whether or not to commit the Jedi to battle alongside the Republic. The Mandalore Wars had been raging for almost three years now and the Republic was losing badly. It was hard to get reports from the front on the holonet but it was pretty clear the fierce Mandalorians held the upper hand. As much as Revan wanted to join battle, he was a Jedi and thus subject to the Jedi Council's authority. Unlike Malak though, he was already a Knight, albeit a very young Knight, and he would likely be sent into battle amongst the first wave, something which he enjoyed heckling his friend with quite often. Jedi could wear many colors, developing their skills to fit roles according to their place in the Order. There were Jedi diplomats, Jedi who specialized in healing, Jedi who dedicated themselves as scholars, even Jedi who became great star pilots and used the Force to explore the depths of space. Malak was a warrior, plain and simple. His approach to obstacles was simple. If there was something between him and an objective, he went through it. Tall and powerfully built, he was a fantastic duelist with a lightsaber, more than an equal for even many of the Jedi Masters. He would become a great Guardian someday, possibly even the greatest. Besides Revan of course.

It sounded arrogant, but Revan knew he was the best. As a Jedi, he had potential unseen in generations. His connection to the Force was stronger than any the Order had seen in decades. Combined with his intelligence, it allowed him to learn and advance at a phenomenal rate, attaining full status as a Knight when he was only seventeen, just five years after becoming a Padawan. Malak was fierce with a lightsaber, but Revan knew he was better. No one could beat him. He couldn't explain it. Everything came naturally to him. He hadn't been defeated in the dueling chambers since he was an apprentice. Yet even though he'd naturally been chosen for the role of a Guardian for his martial prowess, he hadn't neglected his ability to use the Force. Naturally charismatic, Revan had already been sent to mediate disputes on several worlds and never failed a mission. There were whispers he was even better as a Consular, using the Force and diplomacy to avert conflict, than a Guardian, leaping into battle lightsaber ablaze. With such gifts, the Jedi Masters warned him often of the dangers of overconfidence and arrogance but as with everything else in life, Revan acted as Revan willed. The responsibilities of holding such power at such a young age weren't lost on him, but they certainly didn't intimidate him.

"Yes, of course my friend. I'll see you tomorrow then?"

Malak nodded clapping him on the shoulder and walked off, his long strides taking him swiftly down the corridor and out of sight. Finding Bastila's dormitory, Revan noticed her lights were off and wondered if she was already asleep. Slowly pushing open the door, he could just barely make out her body in the darkness, sitting cross-legged on her bed. Revan frowned slightly. She wasn't experienced enough to be meditating like this alone. Revan softly whispered her name.

"Bastila?"

Her breathing was ragged and her eyes were closed. A strange look of bliss was on her face. His eyes following the soft curves of her body, he almost thought his heart would stop as he reached through the Force bond he had with her and read her mind. With a little concentration, he was able to see the vision she held in her head.

"What are you doing?" he asked instinctively, already knowing the answer to his question.

Individuals strong in the Force could actually manipulate their dreams, projecting their thoughts and desires into their subconscious, like shooting a holovid. Bastila had always been gifted in the mental aspects of manipulating the Force and Revan had often been amazed at how vivid her dreams could be. But what he saw in her troubled him. He saw himself in her dreams, which didn't surprise him. She dreamt of him often, which seemed to comfort her. But she had never dreamt of him like… this. In her vision, his ethereal form was locked in a passionate embrace with hers, their lips pressed tightly together as her tongue touched his.

_She's fantasizing about me. Force help me, I knew I shouldn't have let her watch so many romance holovids._

On some level, he'd always known she'd had a crush on him, probably since she'd hit puberty. But it had never actually registered until now. Bastila shot up in bed, pulling her covers over herself like he was a ghost. Her face flushed a deep red.

"I…" she stammered.

"How long have you been… doing this?" Revan stuttered back.

_Oh Bastila… I never realized you felt that way about me…_

Her voice was uncertain as she answered, very soft and afraid.

"Since I was twelve, Revan."

_Bastila, my Bastila… I never imagined…_

Revan gave his best brotherly smile, the awkwardness of the situation causing his own cheeks to warm up.

"Well… it has to stop okay? Don't do it anymore."

"But I don't understand… when I think of you, it just feels right."

Her beautiful blue eyes looked so innocent and pure as she said this and Revan didn't know what to say. He sighed.

"Did you sneak out to watch a holovid again? One of those love stories you adore so much?"

Bastila looked so childlike in the moonlight, still displaying a little baby fat around her cheeks. Revan wanted nothing more than to wrap her in his arms and cradle her.

"One of the other girls took me. I asked Master Vrook about it and he said boys and girls who stupidly fall in love experience such feelings about each other. Then he scolded me and sent me to my room. Are you mad at me, Revan? Please don't be angry!"

The pleading look in her eyes melted his heart. But he silently cursed Vrook for his ineptly foolish explanation.

"I'm not mad at you, baby girl. But we have to talk, okay?"

She nodded, taking a seat beside him on her bed, her legs dangling over the side. As Revan put an arm around her, he was struck by how much she had developed. Bastila had always been his 'little sister', the one he loved more than anything else in the universe. But where he had once towered over her, able to scoop her up in one arm, she had grown several inches, almost to his shoulder. In the pale moonlight, she seemed to grow up right before his eyes.

Although still tiny, she was no longer the rail-thin waif he remembered. He flushed as his eyes traced the curve of her body, over her developing breasts and her round bottom. She was developing into a lovely young woman… Revan tore his eyes away and scolded himself for having such thoughts about her.

"Bastila, we're Jedi. We've been gifted with the power to use the Force. But there are sacrifices we have to make. You're becoming a very beautiful young lady and boys will start noticing you. You're going to start feeling things towards boys that will confuse you. As a Jedi though, these feelings are something we have to give up. You have to learn to fight temptations, even if they feel right. Master Vrook was just looking out for you but he's wrong when he says falling in love is stupid. Love is a beautiful thing. It's just that…"

Revan sighed. He felt like he was trying to give her a father-daughter talk and that was the last thing he wanted. Bastila had been very close to her father before leaving for the Jedi and Revan had always tried to respect that, doing nothing that would seem like he was supplanting him.

"Jedi aren't allowed to fall in love. It's one of the sacrifices we make."

Hearing the words coming out of his own mouth, Revan didn't know whether to laugh or cry. The Jedi philosophy of denial of one's emotions had always been a contentious issue for him, one he'd had many an argument with the Jedi Masters about. Love was something he wasn't willing to give up and yet here he was telling Bastila to do exactly that.

"But Revan, I don't feel anything for any of the boys my age. I love you. I know you're always there for me and you would never hurt me. Do… Do you love me, Revan?"

Revan felt himself becoming misty eyed as he looked down at her, brushing her light brown hair from her face. He put both arms around her and pulled her to him, planting a tender kiss on the top of her head.

"Of course, sweetheart. But not in that way. It's… it's not allowed."

She looked so beautiful in his embrace, staring up at him with deep azure eyes that pierced him to his very soul. Before he could react, she reached her arms around his neck and pressed her lips to his. Eyes widening in surprise, he found himself returning the kiss, his tongue exploring the inside of her mouth.

_Where did she ever learn to kiss like that…wait… what am I doing? This is forbidden it's… I have to stop this…_

She pulled away before he could move and just smiled shyly.

"I'm sorry, Revan. I just wanted to know what it was like… I'm sorry, it won't happen again. But do you ever wonder… what if we weren't Jedi? Could you ever fall in love with me?"

Not for the first time that night, Revan found himself lacking for words. Unsure of what to say, he awkwardly patted her on the arm.

"It's not our place to speculate about how things could be. As much as we may wish things to be different, we live in this universe, we must focus on what is, not what if."

The smile slowly faded from her face.

"I… I understand."

Seeing her shoulders slumping, Revan gave her a friendly hug, bringing his lips close to her ear.

"It's your birthday in a few days. I got you something," he whispered. Pulling the little box from behind his back, he flipped it open, holding it out to her. Her eyes seemed to light up brighter than the pendant when she saw it.

"Revan… I… I don't know what to say!"

He grinned like a fool.

"Just say you like it."

"I love it. But… how did you ever afford this? I can't take this, it must have cost you a fortune."

Revan laughed softly as he shook his head.

"Actually, it didn't cost me anything. At least it didn't cost me anything in credits, if that's what you mean. Time-wise and uh… effort-wise it was a little more expensive than I thought it would be."

"You made it!" she asked in surprise.

"It took me forever to find something that could cut solid crystal, and even longer to learn how to carve. The Council would expel me if they knew how many lightsaber crystals I destroyed before perfecting the one in your hand," he chuckled, gesturing to the iridescent crystal she cradled in her palm. Bastila frowned slightly.

"Lightsaber crystals? This is a lightsaber crystal? Where… how did you get lightsaber crystals?"

Revan smiled, thinking of the nasty looking gash running down his forearm.

_Note to self, touch up on Form III defensive stance to prevent similar incidents in the future. _

"Don't worry, I didn't steal them from Master Dorak. There are caves here on Dantooine where they form naturally. Unfortunately, these caves are also home to more than a few kinrath cave spiders. I knew this gift would cost me much in time, but I never figured it would also cost me in blood."

He chuckled. Bastila looked at him in disbelief. Smiling, Revan took the pendant from her hand.

"Turn around," he whispered. As she did, he gently clasped the silver chain attached to the pendant around her slender neck.

"It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. Whatever did I do to deserve such a gift?"

Revan took her hands in his and kissed them lightly. His eyes began to glisten again.

"Nothing, it's your birthday. Just remember this: You're always going to be my baby girl, no matter if you're four, fourteen, or twenty-four. Happy birthday, Bastila."

* * *

Revan shook his head angrily at the memory. That was the last time he saw her before the Mandalorian Wars. Two weeks later, an angry, defiant Revan had stormed into the High Council chambers in the Jedi Temple on Coruscant and tore his Jedi robes from his back, casting them at the feet of the Jedi Masters, daring them to stop him from defying them and joining the war. 

Brokenhearted at his self-imposed exile, Bastila had never been the same. Driven by a need to become what he could not, to fulfill his destiny as the Order's greatest Jedi, she'd given herself completely over to her teachers. Even far away, on the frontlines of the Mandalorian Wars, as far from the Academy at Dantooine as he could be without leaving the galaxy, Revan had heard legends of her exploits, rivaling his previously unheard of progress as a Jedi. He only saw her once more before he seized the mantle of Dark Lord. It was like a part of her had died.

_And I killed her. I killed my love, the one I swore would never come to harm while I lived._


	4. Chapter 3

Carth sipped his coffee, sitting in the captain's chair on the bridge of the _Endar Spire_. He cursed his luck at having drawn the night watch. Technically in hyperspace there was no 'night' but the crew was still made up of living bodies. And living bodies had a schedule to go by, meaning most of the crew rested at 'night'. Right now, his body's biological clock was telling him it was two hours past midnight, Coruscant time. 

He looked around the bridge and chuckled. The highest-ranking officer left on the bridge was the Comm Officer, a lieutenant. Carth himself technically didn't even have a rank, he was actually just a special advisor for the Republic Fleet now. In the chain of command, he was the equivalent of a pilot commander, the same rank he'd held in the Mandalorian Wars. Partly by choice, largely by regulation, he had been taken off the active duty lists several months ago. He'd been fighting practically nonstop for almost ten years, from the start of the Mandalorian Wars all the way to the present Sith war. Republic Fleet regulations stated no soldier was allowed to serve that long in a frontline role. So it was either 'retire' and become an advisor with less pay, or get stuck behind a desk. It was an easy choice for him, especially after Telos.

_Telos… it feels like a lifetime ago. But I'll get justice for you, Morgana, I promise. Saul will pay for what he did… _

Carth sighed. Since the Sith razed Telos he'd become nothing but an empty shell, returning to the front just fighting and waiting to die. While most soldiers dreamt of life after war, he had only one wish: To avenge his wife's death before he was inevitably struck down in battle. Being a veteran, he was well respected by the other men, but most kept their distance from him. There was something about the empty look in his eyes that many found unsettling.

"Sir, we're inbound on Taris, we'll be in range of their scanners in twenty minutes."

Just three months ago Taris had been well behind Republic lines. Now it was home to a Sith garrison. If this mission was going to save the Republic, they didn't have much time. At the rate the Sith fleet was advancing, Coruscant and the Core Worlds would be under assault in less than a year.

"Change our heading and get one of the Taris moons between us and the planet. Hopefully it'll give us some cover."

A few years ago he would have been nervous, being so close to the enemy in his backyard. But with all the losses the Republic was suffering, practically the entire galaxy outside of the Coruscant Core was the enemy's backyard.

Carth pulled himself from his seat and stood by the large viewing windows. The blue-gray ball that was Taris was coming into view. So far, so good, there wasn't a Sith vessel in sight. They probably weren't expecting Republic ships this far behind their lines.

He frowned, noticing a few glimmering specks in the sky, moving too quickly to be stars. Carth dropped his coffee mug, the hot contents spilling down the front of his flight jacket.

"What the… Damnit! Sound general quarters! We've been ambushed!" Carth shouted as a formation of tiny, delta-shaped Sith fighters screamed in at him on a strafing run, veering away at the last possible moment. Two massive Sith dreadnoughts uncloaked from nowhere, bearing in quickly as wave after wave of fighters streamed from their hangers.

"Ensign, turn this heap around and get us out of here!"

A third dreadnought uncloaked behind them, cutting off their escape. Carth slammed a fist into the palm of his other hand as the _Endar Spire_'s senior officers spilled onto the bridge, their eyes still foggy with sleep. The captain, a grandfatherly looking man in his seventies, looked Carth directly in the eye.

"What's going on Onasi? What's our situation?"

"They jumped us from nowhere, sir! They were waiting for us, they knew we were coming!"

A broadside salvo from one of the Sith ships struck the _Endar Spire_, knocking out the main turbolaser batteries. The captain cursed loudly and called Carth over.

"You better find that Jedi princess and get her out of here. I've got a feeling in a few moments we're going to have Sith troopers swarming all over us!"

With a quick half-salute, Carth ran off to find Bastila. He burst through her door to find her kneeling on the floor, her eyes closed.

"What the hell are you doing? We have to get out of here!" he shouted, grabbing her arm. Bastila's eyes fluttered open and she glared at him as she tore her arm away.

"I'm saving our lives."

Carth looked at her incredulously.

"By praying? I hate to burst your bubble sweetheart, but no higher being or deity can save us now!"

Bastila seemed to be staring daggers right into his chest.

"I am using my Battle Meditation. Now please leave so I may concentrate."

Carth shook his head and grabbed her arm again. Again the young Jedi glared at him and pulled away.

"Your Jedi magic can't save us now. My orders are to get you to an escape pod. If you don't come with me voluntarily, I'm going to have to carry you…"

Seeing the Republic soldier wasn't going to budge, Bastila finally rose to her feet.

"You will do nothing of the sort. I am a Jedi, and your orders don't apply to me. But since you are so annoyingly insistent, I will come with you."

Leading her to an escape pod, Carth half pushed her into it before slamming the hatch shut.

_Good riddance._

* * *

Revan's eyes flew open as the _Endar Spire_ was violently shaken by a turbolaser salvo. Klaxons blared throughout the ship, sounding the alarm. This was no drill. Revan heard the distinctive clanking sound of boarding craft docking with the Republic battlecruiser. The door to his cabin slid open and a young man wearing a Republic uniform ran in, brandishing a blaster. 

"Come on! We've been ambushed by a Sith fleet and the _Endar Spire_'s under attack! We have to get to the bridge to defend Bastila!"

Revan said nothing, simply strapping on his armor and grabbing his helmet.

_Bastila… I swore I'd lay my life down to protect hers if it ever came to that. I suppose now I have the opportunity to see if it comes to that…_

Slinging a heavy rifle under his arm, he gestured towards the door.

"After you."

The young soldier nodded, brandished his blaster and ran into the hall. Two blaster bolts almost tore off his head. Revan pushed him to the ground, pulled his repeating rifle from over his shoulder and raked two Sith boarders with heavy blaster fire. Grabbing the dazed soldier by his armored vest, he pulled him into the corridor.

"Move it, soldier!"

As they rounded the corner towards the elevator, a flurry of bolts struck the bulkhead behind them. The soldier instinctively ducked for cover but Revan danced around the bolts, sensing them through the Force. A squad of Sith troopers poured from the elevator, right on top of them. Swinging his rifle like a club, Revan landed the butt under the chin of an onrushing attacker, snapping his neck instantly. Knocking aside a vibroblade jab by another, he pulled the dagger from the scabbard in his boot and plunged it into his assailant's chest, pulled it out, and slashed it across the neck of another trooper in one fluid motion. As a last trooper tried to bring his rifle to bear, Revan kicked him in the chest and flicked his dagger with one hand between the two armored plates protecting the soldier's torso. Retrieving his dagger, he wiped it off and replaced it in his boot. The Republic soldier looked at him in stunned silence but Revan ignored him.

"There isn't much time, the bridge crew won't hold out long."

* * *

Carth fired two bolts into a charging Sith soldier and sealed the blast doors to the bridge. Half of the crew was already dead. The Sith boarders swarmed the ship like flies over a carcass. Breathing heavily, he noticed most of the escape pods were gone. Taking his advice, most of the Jedi had already left. He realized in horror Bastila's was still docked. Running over, he tore open the hatch. She was kneeling on the floor of the pod, meditating. 

"Why are you still here? The battle's already lost!"

Bastila ignored him.

"I'm buying you some time."

Furious, Carth slammed the hatch shut and activated the pod's release manually.

"Not anymore you're not."

* * *

Revan's companion grabbed his arm, holding him back. 

"Dark Jedi! This fight is too much for us. We'd only get in the way!"

One of the Jedi accompanying Bastila was fighting for her life with a fallen Jedi. The Dark Jedi managed to catch her off guard and knocked the weapon from her hands. Before she could react, he'd plunged his lightsaber into her stomach.

"Shit, run!" the soldier shouted. Ignoring him, Revan pulled another dagger from his belt and twirled the two blades around, approaching the Dark Jedi. The Sith smiled evilly, like a kath hound eyeing a steak.

"You fool! He's got a lightsaber!"

Revan didn't even turn his head. As the Dark Jedi attacked, Revan sidestepped his attack, rolled, jumped to his feet, and with a flurry of slashing attacks, cut through his enemy's defenses and plunged both daggers into his chest. Bending down, Revan retrieved the crimson lightsaber and clipped it to his belt.

"How did you do that?"

Revan just smiled grimly.

"Cortosis weave. Lightsabers can't cut the blade."

"No, how did you…"

Revan gestured to the beeping comlink on the soldier's belt.

"This is Carth Onasi on the bridge. Bastila Shan has left the vessel. Anybody receiving this message, get to the escape pods immediately!"

* * *

Carth put down his comlink and glanced at the ship's life support console. Every member of the crew of the _Endar Spire_ was wearing an emitter showing his or her location and status. From what he could tell, everyone was dead. Just as he was about to get into the last escape pod and leave though, he saw a blinking light. He sighed and punched his comlink. 

"I'm reading you on the _Endar Spire's _life support system. You'd better hurry. Now that Bastila's gone, the Sith aren't going to hesitate to blow us into dust."

Revan reached the bridge and forced open the blast doors to be met with an entire swarm of Sith troopers. Spinning around in a dizzying flurry of blades, Revan quickly cut them down and turned to look for his companion. The young man was lying on the deck, his chest torn open by a blaster bolt. Revan murmured a few last words for him, pulled the combat blaster from his belt, and put him out of his misery before running towards the starboard escape pods. As he burst through the door, he found himself staring down the barrel of a blaster. The man behind the blaster slowly lowered it as he realized Revan wasn't a Sith.

"Finally, I almost left without you!"

* * *

Carth eyed the filthy creature standing in front of him and a grim smile formed on his face. The man's clothes were torn and he was covered in blood and grime. Judging from how he was carrying himself though, Carth was guessing the blood wasn't his. Suddenly, the man grabbed him and threw him into the escape pod. Carth turned back in shock as three blaster bolts struck the spot where he had been standing just seconds earlier. 

"Give me your blaster!" the man shouted. Carth quickly tossed it to him and heard it discharge several times. Two Sith soldiers dropped to the floor. Tossing the blaster back to him, the man ducked into the escape pod and slammed the hatch shut.

"Get us out of here!"

Carth strapped himself in and pulled the release lever.

"Hold on, this is going to be a bumpy ride!"

* * *

"What's the status of the battle?" Captain Rellius asked, standing on the bridge of his ship, the Sith battlecruiser _Avenger_. 

The crewman grinned widely.

"We've cut them off sir! They've got nowhere to run! All that's left is the _Endar Spire_ and boarding parties report they've almost got the entire ship under control."

Captain Rellius shook his head.

"What of Bastila? Have they secured her?"

The crewman pushed a button on his console.

"Lieutenant, has your strike team captured Bastila Shan?"

There was a crackle of static and then the response of the Sith commander on the _Endar Spire_.

"_Negative, Avenger. We've secured the ship and I've ordered a full search but there's no sign of her. All of the escape pods are gone."_

Captain Rellius' blood ran cold as he ran to the front of the ship, looking down at several tiny specks streaking towards the surface of Taris. In the chaos of battle, he hadn't even noticed the escape pods being jettisoned. They were too far out of range of his ship's guns now. Taris was under Sith occupation but the planet was densely populated, its entire surface almost covered in urban sprawl. If Bastila escaped to the planet below she could disappear into the planet's lower levels and hide indefinitely. He turned pale.

"She's down there."

"Sir?"

"Bastila's escaped. It was our job to cut off any escape attempt towards the planet… Lord Malak will not be pleased."

The captain felt his legs buckle beneath him as he crumbled into his commander's chair.

"Helm, set a course towards Republic space and get us out of here! I need every ounce of power you can coax from the hyperdrive or we're dead!"

* * *

Malak stared coldly out at the fleeing _Avenger_, well aware of Bastila's escape and Captain Rellius' failure. 

"Redirect all our fire onto the _Avenger_."

The _Leviathan _slowly turned, leveling its massive turbolasers on the deserting Sith battlecruiser.

"You may fire when ready."

* * *

Carth gritted his teeth as the escape pod plunged through the Taris atmosphere, its surface glowing red hot from the heat of reentry. His pilot's instincts taking over, he began looking for a place to land the speeding pod. Two escape pods in front of them tried to land on a platform in the upper city but missed, skidding off the walkway and plunging into the depths of the urban landscape. Taris, like Coruscant, was a massive metropolis, layer after layer of urban sprawl piled on top of itself, built up over centuries. The upper city was where the rich and powerful lived, where gleaming skyscrapers arched majestically into the pinkish sky. 

Also like Coruscant, as you went down into the lower levels, the surroundings became less and less appealing, going from penthouses to slums to… worse. If he couldn't get the escape pod down into one of the upper levels, they would plunge all the way to the bottom depths, possibly even into the lower city, ruled by vicious swoop gangs and ruthless crimelords. If they were particularly unlucky, they would continue to fall until they reached the planet surface, the undercity, a miserable place completely devoid of light, home only to wretched outcasts banished from the upper levels and terrifying, flesh-eating mutants called rakghouls.

"See anywhere we can land?"

His companion nodded towards a broad walkway down below, past a heavily built up industrial area.

"That should serve our purposes."

Taking a deep breath, Carth guided the escape pod down. With no control surfaces, 'flying' an escape pod was difficult to say the least. The only way to maneuver was by manipulating the thrusters, pushing the pod one way or another. Once out of fuel, the pod was nothing but a metal can, plummeting from the sky like a rock. The fuel gauges were hovering near zero.

As they soared over a group of skyscrapers, one of the thrusters suddenly gave out, dropping the tail of the pod slightly. Carth felt the pod shake violently as it clipped a building.

"Damnit! Hold on!"

He tried to regain control but it was hopeless. The damaged pod spun wildly, dropping towards a dark chasm. Out of the corner of his eye, Carth noticed his companion's eyes closed. He smiled grimly. Religion, the last thing men turned to when faced with their own mortality.

_Whoever you're praying to, say a prayer for me too._

* * *

Revan wasn't praying. He'd calculated their approach from the moment of reentry, knowing the chances of being able to set down in the upper city were slim to none. When the pod had clipped the skyscraper, he'd immediately realized maintaining the façade of helpless passenger would do nothing for him. Or Bastila. Calling upon the Force, he slowly steadied the craft, setting it back on course towards the walkway he'd spotted before. It was a difficult, nearly impossible task as the pod was in a freefall and 'wanted' to plummet straight down, but Revan was able to hold his concentration long enough to push them back.

* * *

"What in the… we might be able to make it!" 

It was like the pod had taken a life of its own. Just when Carth had thought all was lost, the pod had seemed to 'jump', changing direction just before clipping a platform and veering back on course.

"I'm going to initiate the landing sequence. As soon as we hit the ground, we've got to get out. The Sith patrols will be all over this pod in seconds… shit the computer's been damaged! This is going to be a bad landing!"

* * *

Revan heard Carth's words faintly, as if through a dream. Waiting until he was sure they would make it onto the walkway, he opened his eyes just before contact. The pod smashed against the platform surface, bouncing across the walkway like a rubber ball. He had averted a near disaster in getting them into the upper city, but the pod was bouncing towards the edge of the platform. All the effort he'd expended before would mean nothing if they rolled over, plummeting to their deaths a few hundred stories down. Reaching out with the Force again, he put all his strength into stopping their momentum. Sweat pouring down his brow, he felt the pod begin to slow down. The question now was whether he could slow it down enough to save their lives. Just as the pod finally tore over a railing, Revan was able to fully stop it. The violent motion of the pod crashing against a wall tore him from his restraints, smashing his head against a bulkhead. The last thing he remembered was the world getting dark…

* * *

Canderous Ordo grabbed the terrified man by the throat and threw him against the wall. 

"Where's the credits, Ras?"

The man struggled to free himself but it was hopeless. The Mandalorian's massive hand was clamped around his neck, forcing him to stare into Canderous' emotionless gray eyes.

"I…I… just give me a week… I promise I'll have a down payment!"

Canderous tossed him like a rag doll.

"Davik doesn't take down payments. You were supposed to have the full amount a month ago. Davik's been plenty patient with you, giving you an extra two weeks. Too patient if you ask me. It's the end of the line for you."

He pulled a massive Mandalorian combat blaster from his belt, putting it right to the man's head.

"Please, I have a family! Just give me a week, Canderous! Just a week! It's just a thousand credits, I'll have them!"

Canderous lowered the barrel of the blaster slightly, then suddenly brought it up and blew away the man's knee. As his victim screamed and grabbed his bloodied leg, Canderous holstered his weapon.

"You have three days. Come up with two thousand credits or I'll come back to personally ensure you a very painful, drawn out death."

As he sauntered away, he shook his head. The stupid merchant wouldn't have the money. He'd probably try to run off and hide. Canderous climbed into the airspeeder, lowering his muscular frame into the seat and cursed. They were all the same. Fools running to Davik, thinking the Exchange crimeboss was some public bank, then trying to skip town when it came time to pay the loan back. That was where he came in. It was his job to hunt down the idiots and either squeeze the money out of them or leave big, smoking blaster holes in their mutilated bodies.

Davik paid well but he hated his job. Less than five years ago he had been one of Mandalore's most senior commanders, leading Clan Ordo to sure victory at Malachor V, the most glorious battle in Mandalorian history. Canderous laughed bitterly to himself. The most glorious defeat as well. The Mandalorian clans had been shattered in the battle, almost completely destroyed. That was how he had been reduced to this, hitman for an Exchange crimelord, little more than a common thug. The Mandalorian slammed his hand against the side of the speeder, startling his driver.

"We're done here. Take me back to Davik's estate… what the hell is that?"

The Republic escape pod dropped out of the sky, plunging through a flimsy lower city durasteel platform before smashing into the side of a building, a few stories below them.

"Republic escape pods… they must be from that battle overhead. Davik's going to want to hear about this."

* * *

Bastila heard someone groaning as she opened her eyes. As she undid her restraints and tried to pull herself up, she realized that someone was herself. The escape pod had crashed through what felt like every story of urban Taris, finally coming to a rest in what she was sure was the undercity. 

_It certainly smells like the undercity._

The pod's landing thrusters had malfunctioned and the pod was sitting on its nose, meaning she was bent in a very awkward position. When she undid the last strap holding her in her seat, she gave a yelp as she tumbled into the front of the pod.

"I hope the Sith haven't managed to track me," she muttered to herself, fiddling with the escape pod's crude communications suite. Republic escape pods were equipped with rudimentary scrambling equipment for their communicators, meaning any transmissions she made should be relatively safe.

"If anyone can read me, this is Bastila Shan of the Republic ship _Endar Spire_, come in please."

There was nothing but static. She realized the urban jungle of Taris must be obscuring any transmissions to other survivors. If there were any. Bastila sighed.

_No sense in waiting here for the Sith to collect me._

Crawling back towards the exit hatch in the rear, she tried to look out the view ports to see her surroundings but she couldn't see anything in the pitch black of the undercity. When she reached the exit hatch, she pushed against the release. Nothing. The hatch was jammed. The pod must have been lodged against something during its descent. Bastila felt something warm trickle along her forehead and grimaced as she wiped away blood. She wasn't seriously injured, but besides that, there wasn't much to be thankful for. She was stranded, alone, on an unfamiliar world, trapped in an escape pod with no way to contact anyone.

_The hatch is only a few inches thick… perhaps my lightsaber…_

She reached down to her belt and panicked as she realized the long, metal cylinder was gone.

* * *

Carth sat against the wall, cleaning the grime from his blaster. After their miraculous landing, he'd managed to drag the other soldier from the pod just before the Sith patrols had descended like vultures on carrion. The past few hours had been spent frantically dodging patrols, looking for a place to hide while keeping an eye on his semiconscious companion. He recognized the soldier as the 182nd commando he'd pointed out to the two young crewmen on the _Endar Spire_. The man had been drifting in and out of consciousness, muttering incoherently. Carth wondered what demons the young man must be staring down in his dreams. Every time he himself closed his eyes, he was plagued by nightmares. No doubt the dreams of this commando were no less vivid. 

_He can't even be twenty-five but he's got the eyes of someone who's lived into their triple digits. _

The young man stirred. Grabbing a canteen from his side, Carth went over to check on him. Before he could react, an iron grip tightened around his throat and threw him to the floor as a long, thin dagger appeared from nowhere at his throat.

"Easy, easy! We're on the same side!"

The blade slowly disappeared back into its sheath and the hand around his throat relaxed. The man's piercing brown eyes examined him for a moment before he fully released him and offered a hand up. Carth took it and was surprised by how easily he was pulled to his feet. The soldier standing before him was above average in height, a bit short of two meters. He had an athletic build and looked like his body was in flawless condition, as Carth would have expected from a commando. His was a muscular frame, but not overly so.

"Good to see you up instead of thrashing around in your sleep. Do you remember me?"

The young soldier's eyes went around the room as he tried to regain his bearings.

"Carth, the one on the communicator. Yes, I remember… what happened? Where am I?"

"The _Endar Spire _was ambushed passing through Taris. The ship was destroyed but we managed to escape before it exploded. We're in Upper Taris right now. You were knocked out but fortunately I was unhurt. I pulled you out of the pod and dragged you to this abandoned apartment. You've been slipping in and out for the past few days."

Revan nodded slowly, the events before his losing consciousness gradually coming back to him.

"I suppose I owe you my life. Thanks."

Carth waved him off.

"Don't mention it. I've never left a man behind and I'm not going to start now. You got a name, soldier?"

"Lieutenant Qelas Stasia, 182nd SRG. Call me Qel."

Carth tossed him the canteen and Revan took a long swig before handing it back.

"Well Qel, now that you're up, I'm going to need your help in figuring out what we're going to do. Heh, as you can probably tell, we're not in a very good situation but I've seen worse. Taris is under the control of the Sith and we're pretty deep behind enemy lines. I salvaged some supplies and the communications equipment from the pod. I've tried using the communicator to get in contact with other survivors but…"

"Bastila."

"What?"

Revan closed his eyes momentarily before rising to his feet and slinging his blaster belt around his waist. He had to get off the planet, abandon this ridiculous façade the Jedi had forced on him and stop Malak. Maybe charter a private ship to take him on a quest to recover his lost memory. But Bastila…

"You said on the _Endar Spire_ that Bastila escaped. I saw you tracking her pod on the way down, where do you think she may have landed?"

Carth frowned as he tried to remember.

"I'm not sure. The scanners went out shortly after we entered the atmosphere – I'm guessing that's because her pod went down over the horizon. From the looks of its trajectory though, it didn't look good. I've got a feeling she may have landed in the undercity. In any case, I'm not so sure we're safe here. The Sith are likely actively looking for us as well. We can't do anything for her by going out there and getting caught ourselves. But if the Republic loses Bastila, this war is already lost… We should try contacting the Republic."

Revan emptied out his pack, taking what he needed and throwing the rest back in before prying up a floor panel to bury it.

"Contacting the Republic won't help us. If they don't already know we were ambushed, they will soon. We're too deep behind enemy lines for them to help us. We're on our own. We have to find Bastila."

Carth thought about it. He had been fighting for a long time and knew the ins and outs of Republic protocol like the back of his hand. What the young soldier said went against everything in the book. But Carth doubted the training manuals on escape and evasion behind enemy lines had been written for a situation like this, with Bastila Shan, the Republic's last hope compromised as she was.

"You're probably right. But finding her isn't going to be easy. Taris has a lot of different levels. In some places it's almost as bad as Coruscant. The Sith only control the Upper City so if she landed in one of the lower levels, she shouldn't have to worry too much, I guess."

Revan could remember Taris well. Taris had been the last Republic world his small fleet had journeyed to before leaving for the Mandalorian Wars. Shiny and pristine on the surface, the glittering cityscape of Upper Taris was just a shell for the rotting decay underneath. In the process of trying to restore order to the planet, Revan had deployed troops to the lower levels to reinforce Republic patrols. Between the rakghouls, swoop gangs, and the Exchange, casualties had been horrendous. He told himself Bastila was one of the Order's brightest pupils but the thought of her down there sent a chill all the way to his core.

"Don't underestimate the dangers of the Lower City. I fought here in the Mandalorian Wars and… it's a horrid place, a despicable hive of lawlessness and villainy. If Bastila is down there, we had best start looking for her."

Carth tore the Republic insignia badges off his leather flight jacket with a knife.

"Alright. But the Sith have posted guards at all of the turbolifts leading below the third level of the Upper City. We're going to need to either get our hands on some security papers or find some other way to get past the checkpoints."

* * *

Sato took careful aim with his sniper rifle, taking short, shallow breaths to keep his hands steady. His target, a balding man in his fifties, stepped out of a high class Coruscant cantina, tucking a small package into his expensive coat. Waiting for his bounty to walk into the little red aiming dot of his tri-power sights, he began reciting the details of his target. 

"Senator Crade Tarvish, fifty-eight years of age… elected to senatorial position as representative of Tanaab seven years ago, after predecessor was found dead of a heart attack… foul play suspected but case was mysteriously dropped by Coruscant authorities…"

The political backstabbing and corruption amongst the senators of the Galactic Senate had never failed to amaze him. The power games of Coruscant made the never-ending infighting of the Sith seem like child's play. The senator walked out of the crowded area in front of the cantina, creating a clear shot for Sato. His finger tensed against the trigger of his rifle slightly and he felt the butt push against his shoulder as it discharged. The senator dropped to the walkway. Sato spoke into the comlink clipped to his collar.

"The package is ready for delivery."

Keeping one eye on the motionless body, he relaxed and lit a death stick, putting it between his lips. Taking a long drag, he blew a smoke ring in the air. Work as a bounty hunter was dull and meaningless, though often dangerous. He hated it but there was little else a man of his skills could do. His employer for this contract hadn't identified himself, choosing to communicate only through an intermediary. But he paid well and it didn't take a genius to figure out the client was one of Mr. Tarvish's many political enemies. As a crowd gathered around the fallen senator's body, a speeder marked in the colors of a Coruscant ambulance pulled up and two ambulance attendants jumped out. Sato glanced at his chrono.

"My, oh my, Coruscant medicare must have improved drastically since last I was here. I never realized medevac was so efficient," he muttered to himself with a smug smile. If the uniformed men were 'ambulance attendants', he was a Hutt's mother. This was a routine kidnapping mission, nothing more. Taking one last drag on the death stick before flicking it aside, Sato disassembled his rifle and put it back into his bag, slinging it over his shoulder and disappearing back into the bustling crowds of the Coruscant upper city.

Another day, another contract. Hailing a taxi, he made his way to the pre-established rendezvous location where he would be paid. His contact, who he'd known only by voice would be waiting in a cantina, not like the classy establishment his victim had frequented, but one of the dingy, rundown watering holes whose clientele was made up primarily of the shadier members of Coruscant society.

"Bartender, give me a shot of Batinarr whiskey."

Casually glancing around the cantina, he picked out a short, stocky man coming towards him. Even in the dim light of the cantina, he was wearing dark goggles that hid his eyes. The other denizens of the bar moved aside to let him through, giving him a wide berth. Even without his reputation as one of the most fearsome bounty hunters in the galaxy, the pair of oversized Mandalorian combat blasters slung in quick draw holsters on his belt were an unspoken warning that Calo Nord was not a man to be trifled with, despite his diminutive stature.

"Care for a drink?" Sato asked casually as the bounty hunter reached him. Calo set an envelope on the bar, sliding it over. If his client could afford to hire Calo Nord, Senator Tarvish must have either very desperate or very powerful enemies, Sato thought to himself. Taking the envelope, he checked the datapad within, proving the credit transaction. The bounty was much more than usual but Sato had no doubt Calo's cut was significantly larger. In the bounty hunting world, there was an unofficial hierarchy. The best and most experienced of the bounty hunters had connections that spanned the galaxy, meaning they knew about the most expensive bounties almost the moment they were posted. If the bounty paid enough, they might take it themselves. More often, they would contract the bounties out to lesser bounty hunters, giving a small percentage of the bounty and keeping the rest. Sato may have been a deadly killer, trained at the hands of Revan himself but he had no connections, making him little better than the countless amateurs working the galaxy. He was an unknown commodity, but in time, the connections would come. For now though, he had to pay his dues to the heavy hitters like Calo.

_A life as a bounty hunter. I hunted scum like this for sport as a Republic commando and now I'm one of them. It seems fate has a cruel sense of humor indeed. _

"You're short five thousand credits."

Calo looked at him disdainfully.

"Administrative fees."

"I want the full amount we agreed on."

Calo looked the much taller Sato up and down, sizing him up. Either this man was very brave or very stupid. It didn't make much of a difference. Brave and stupid were essentially the same.

"What would make me give you an extra five thousand credits?" Calo smirked. Sato shrugged.

"I know you haven't been paid yet. Payment won't come until the bounty is delivered. Seeing as I was given orders to use a tranquilizer, it would seem your bounty is useless to your client dead. You should know I fabricate all of my projectile ammunition myself. The tranquilizer I used on the senator has an inactive toxin in it. It will activate itself if I send the proper code on an encrypted frequency to a receiver in the tip of the dart, buried somewhere in the bounty's anatomy. If you attempt to kill me, my transceiver has a dead man's switch which will also activate the toxin. It's very simple, Calo; if you don't pay me the rest, I terminate the senator and you get nothing."

Calo Nord smiled, knowing he had been beaten at his game. Sliding a stack of thousand credit chips across the bar, he got up to leave but stopped, as if remembering something.

"You're not like the rest. You do good work and you're going to go places in this business. I normally work alone, but even I call up a posse every once in a while for the juicier prizes. If you'd like…"

Sato flipped the bartender a ten credit chip for his drink.

"You have my contact information. When you get back from your business on Taris, we can discuss our collaboration again."

The smile disappeared from Calo's face.

"How did you know I was going to Taris?"

It was Sato's turn to smirk.

"I have my ways, Mr. Nord. Permit me to give you some advice: In the future, expand your list of aliases when making travel arrangements. A good agent knows he can never use the same alias twice."


	5. Chapter 4

Bastila felt like a herd of banthas had just trod over her head. The last several hours had been a blur and she didn't even know how much time had elapsed since she blacked out. She was shivering and goose bumps were forming on her pale skin. Her captors had stripped her down to her underwear, leaving her bruised and battered on the dirty floor of a tiny cell. With her Force powers exhausted and her lightsaber missing, the swoop gang members who had found her pod had quickly subdued her. She'd fought viciously but in the end there had just been too many of them.

"Sleep well, princess?"

Bastila instinctively covered herself up as she turned to face the owner of the voice. An ugly, dark-skinned man with a scarred face smiled evilly at her.

"I demand you release me at once!" she glowered at him. The man laughed.

"I really don't think you're in a position to make demands. Besides, where would you go even if I did release you? Taris is under Sith occupation and I don't think a Republic officer would last very long if I just let you loose in the middle of the street."

She sighed in frustration.

_At least I'm not a prisoner of the Sith._

"May I at least know the name of my gracious host?" she asked sarcastically. The gangster grinned.

"You are a guest of the Black Vulkars, the most notorious swoop gang on Taris, maybe the entire galaxy. My name is Brejik, and I'm the leader of this motley crew. It's such a shame we have to meet under these conditions. You are such a pretty girl."

His dark, beady eyes leered at her, undressing her in his mind. Bastila stared daggers at him.

"What do you want?"

"From you? Nothing. If you're asking if I'm going to turn you over the Sith, of course not. A Republic officer, especially a female one as gorgeous as yourself will fetch a premium in the underground slave market. But don't worry. I'm not going to parade you across a platform in restraints like a piece of meat. You're to be offered as a prize."

"A prize?"

Brejik nodded, a wide grin stretched across his face.

"You see, lower Taris is embroiled in a little swoop gang war right now. As I said before, we Vulkars are the most notorious gang on Taris. Most of the other gangs are just little clubs really, just a bunch of guys with matching jackets who ride around intimidating civilians. But there's another gang, the Hidden Beks. They used to be big, real big. They used to almost run the lower city, kind of like we do now. Well, when I took over the Vulkars, I made them big, bigger than the Beks. It seems Beks couldn't acknowledge the fact they weren't the top predator anymore, so they've been causing me quite a headache."

Bastila looked at him suspiciously, wishing she had her lightsaber so she could wipe the smirk off his face.

"And what do I have to do with your petty dispute?"

"The annual Taris Swoop Championship opener is coming up. It's one of the biggest events in swoop bike racing in the galaxy. Whoever wins it gets a lot of respect. I'm planning to show all the smaller gangs on Taris where the real power is by offering you up as a prize for the winner. When they see I can offer such a valuable reward they'll join me and I'll finally have the strength to break the Beks once and for all. Anyways, enough talking for now. Get some rest. I want you to be looking your best for the opener."

As he turned to leave, Bastila tried to reach out to the Force to help her escape but she found she was unable to even concentrate. Her thoughts were scattered and it was impossible for her mind to focus. She felt something cold around her neck.

"That's a neural restraint collar. It's normally fitted to criminals to keep their minds in a constant state of disarray, making it impossible for them to escape. I've found it works just as well on slaves as criminals. It's on a pretty low setting right now, but if you cause any trouble, I can increase the power until you start to think you're going crazy. And please, don't try to remove it. If you do, it will inject a neurotoxin directly into your bloodstream and you'll be dead within an hour. We wouldn't want that, would we? But you look like the feisty type and I would rather not have to mark you up any more than you are already. I guess I better play it safe."

Bastila glared at him.

"Great thing about these collars is that I can knock you out with a flip of a switch. Just like a droid, eh? Sweet dreams."

Brejik winked at her and twisted a dial on a device on his wrist. Before Bastila could react, the collar sent a jolt running down her spine and her world became dark.

* * *

"Can I buy you a drink, beautiful?" 

Carth looked at Revan like he was crazy. They had gone to the cantina hoping to find some information but as soon as they entered the room, Revan had made a beeline straight towards a pretty blonde standing by herself beside the bar.

"Um, sure, I guess."

Revan flashed the girl a charming smile that made her blush. As he turned to place his order with the bartender, Carth grabbed his arm.

"You're picking up girls when we're supposed to be trying to find Bastila! Of course I guess Bastila isn't that important. I mean, if she gets captured, so what? It would just mean the Sith would destroy the Republic without her Battle Meditation and we'd all end up in a prison camp somewhere working in a spice mine while Malak sips champagne on Coruscant! Are you out of your mind!"

Revan ignored him and waved the bartender over, ordering two of the most expensive drinks the cantina offered. Carth put his hands to his face and took a deep breath to keep from punching his companion's lights out.

"There you are, a pint of Tarisian ale. It's got a pretty strong kick so drink it slow," he winked. The girl giggled.

"I'm Dacen, by the way."

"Nice to meet you Dacen, I'm Sarna."

Whatever this guy was pulling, Carth could tell he was very good at it. Carth knew his type well. Classic lady-killer. There was one in every division. Handsome, good-looking, and very smooth, they were always the ones to come home with a girl on each arm every shore leave. This girl was warming up to Revan quickly. Revan took a sip of his drink.

"So what do you do, Sarna?"

"Well… um… uh… I don't really want to say…"

"Hey, I'm an accountant. I crunch numbers all day until I feel like sticking a blaster to my head and pulling the trigger. Come on, you can tell me. It can't be any worse than what I do!"

The girl's answer came in a very small voice; almost so quiet Carth couldn't hear her words.

"I'm a junior officer with the Sith occupation force."

Carth almost spilled a mouthful of beer all over the bar but Revan just flashed another charming smile.

"Well that wasn't so bad, was it?"

"You mean you're not going to leave?"

The handsome young soldier laughed.

"And leave a pretty girl like yourself alone at the bar? I'm an accountant, not an idiot. Why did you think I was going to take off?"

"Well, it's just everywhere I look I see one of you Tarisians staring at me with hate in your eyes. I'm actually surprised you're still talking to me at all."

Revan laughed again and swept a stray lock of dark brown hair from his face.

"Hey, you're just doing your job right? Besides, I'm not even from Taris. I was just here on business."

"So you're an off-worlder. I'd figure you'd be even more angry, being stuck here, what with the blockade and all."

Sarna took a long sip from her glass. Qel shrugged.

"Taris isn't so bad. I have to admit though, the locals aren't much fun. I came here for school a couple years ago and I could have sworn this place was a lot more alive. But hey, that doesn't mean we can't still have a good time. You just have to make the best of a situation, see the glass as half full instead of half empty. If the Tarisians feel like staying home and brooding, that just means more room at the bar for us, right?"

Revan put his hand over hers and she didn't remove it.

"It must be tough though, for you I mean, being stationed far from home on a hostile world. For me it's easy, I just spend every waking moment here at the cantina, blowing funds from my company account on drinks until I'm passed out on the floor."

His comment elicited a smile. Sarna tossed her light blond hair over her shoulder.

"I wish I could do that. But we're undermanned up at the military base and I work long hours. The pay isn't that great either. I come here to unwind when I get a few hours off. Speaking of which, I've got another shift pretty soon and I should be going. I'd love to see you again though."

Revan smiled and scribbled something down on a napkin.

"That's my communicator number. If you ever feel like a drink and a chance to shoot your mouth off, give me a call. Hey before you go, you wouldn't happen to draw shifts at the lifts down to the lower city, would you?"

Sarna shrugged.

"Occasionally. Everyone has to work the elevator assignments but we all hate them. There isn't a more boring job in the galaxy. I'm lucky in that I've got skills needed elsewhere most of the time. But I've got a shift at Lift 19 tomorrow, just a few blocks north of here tomorrow. Why?"

Revan looked down at his feet sheepishly.

"Well, I placed a few bets on the title fight for Taris Duel Champion a week ago at one of the lower city cantinas, before you guys started placing guards at the elevators. I won, but I've got no way to get down there to collect my winnings."

Sarna smiled warmly at him.

"Show up tomorrow and if I'm there, I'll let you through."

"And I promise I'll take my winnings and buy you something nice," Revan winked. He kissed her hand and smiled.

"I guess I should let you go for now, beautiful. I'd guess your superiors wouldn't be too happy if you were late for your shift."

Revan watched the girl leave and smiled to himself.

"What was that? In case you forgot, we're Republic soldiers, not off-duty accountants! We're supposed to be keeping a low profile! What if she reports you?"

"She won't. Even if she does, that isn't a real communicator number and she doesn't know my real name. A face is not easily remembered. You have to lighten up, Carth or you'll be the one to blow our cover, not me. We needed a way into the lower city and I found it. Sarna will be guarding Lift 19 tomorrow and she promised she would let me through."

Carth looked surprised.

"You did all that just to get us through the checkpoints? How did you know she was with the Sith?"

Revan tapped his finger on the comlink on his belt.

"Her communicator had a scrambling device on it, just like ours. Encryption devices are prohibitively expensive and the variant she had is restricted to military use under Republic law. Either she was Sith, another Republic survivor, or connected to the criminal underground. Making contact with any of the three would have been useful."

Carth just shook his head. Revan looked around the cantina casually, noticing a few pazaak players congregating in a nearby booth.

"I have a feeling we're going to need credits if we want to get off Taris later. Carth, how many credits do you have on you?"

"A little less than two hundred, why?"

Revan smiled wickedly.

"Ever play pazaak?"

* * *

Four hours later and Revan and Carth were alone at the pazaak table. Carth had been mildly surprised to see the younger soldier win five hands straight, never losing more than one round per hand. When Revan extended his winning streak to ten games, the amateur players stopped playing but the 'pros', players who spent all day at the cantinas, laughed and attributed it to beginner's luck. They weren't laughing twenty hands later, when not one of them could beat the fresh-faced newcomer. 

All Carth could do was watch in awe as their credits grew from a stack of about three hundred to almost two thousand. The other players had checked Revan several times to see if he was cheating, going so far as to rifle through his entire side deck with an ultraviolet lamp, seeing if he marked his cards. But try as they might, they couldn't find any evidence of cheating. All the time, Revan had just smiled innocently.

Carth had tried his hand at pazaak occasionally, playing it more as a distraction than anything during long hyperspace trips. He was half decent, but not good enough to play regularly for money. His side deck, the part of the game that set the pros apart from the amateurs, was pretty pathetic, as he never bought extra cards to give him an edge. Revan hadn't had his own side deck, borrowing his, and he had gone hours without losing. When the last player finally left, grumbling under his breath about the extent to which cheaters would go, Carth had counted Revan's winnings.

"Almost twenty-five hundred credits! I don't get it. You probably played almost a hundred games and you didn't lose once. You must be a pretty slick cheater. I was standing behind you the whole time and I never figured you out."

Revan just gave him a knowing smile.

"What is it that makes you think I cheated? Pazaak is a game of numbers, a game of probability. It's not difficult once you figure it out."

"Care to teach me a few tricks then?" Carth asked honestly.

"Maybe another time. For now, we should be heading back to the apartment. I should probably have lost a few hands on purpose to avoid drawing attention but this should be enough to buy us passage off this planet."

Revan laughed.

_Bastila would be so very disappointed in me if she knew I was using the Force to play pazaak._

* * *

Mission Vao watched the two men enter the cantina. She'd never seen them before. They were dressed in scruffy looking clothes but she saw that one of them was wearing an expensive looking chronograph. Slowly slipping up to him, she expertly removed it from his wrist and turned to leave when she felt a hand on her shoulder. 

"Hey! Where do you think you're going with my chrono?"

Mission froze. She'd never been caught before.

"I'm… I'm sorry sir… I… I just…"

The man looked angry. Mission looked around for Zaalbar but he was busy eating. As usual. The man's friend turned around and smiled at her.

"It's okay Carth. She's just a kid. No harm done. You should let her go."

Carth sighed and released her.

"I guess you're right. Sorry kid, I'm just a little on edge."

Mission hated being called a kid but she decided to let it slide. There was something about these two that piqued her interest. Ever since the Sith had locked down the planet, things had been getting dull on Taris. Revan studied the little blue Twi'lek girl carefully before speaking.

"Isn't this a cantina? What are you doing here alone little girl? Are you lost?"

"Are you blind? Of course this is a cantina!"

Revan winced as the tiny waif who'd looked so pathetic just seconds earlier transformed into a raging rancor before his eyes.

"And I'm NOT a little girl! I can take care of myself just fine and you look a lot more lost than me and…" Mission snapped.

To her surprise, the man quickly apologized and smiled.

"Yes, you're right. We are a little lost. We're… we're new here. We just landed."

Mission frowned. The planet had been quarantined since the invasion three months ago.

"Just landed? Do I look like I'm stupid or something?"

"Can I have a word with you?"

"Sure, I've got nothing better to do."

Revan pulled her aside to a booth.

"We're Republic soldiers…"

Carth frowned and leaned over to whisper into his ear.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?"

Mission looked at the two strangely, shifting her gaze from one to the other, and back again.

"What are you guys talking about? Were you fighting in that big battle overhead a few days ago?"

"So you heard."

She nodded her head excitedly.

"Of course, everyone knows. You really couldn't miss it. The flashes in the sky, the escape pods streaking into the undercity. It's the first excitement this planet has seen in…"

"Wait, did you say escape pods?"

She nodded again enthusiastically.

"Yup. I'd hate to be in them though. The undercity is a real nasty place, what with all the swoop gangs and rakghouls. I mean here in the lower city, it's not bad but…"

When she looked up, the two men were gone. Mission shrugged and called over to a massive Wookiee.

"Come on Zaalbar, there's nothing to do around here. Let's go and see if anything's going on at the Bek base."

* * *

"Rakghouls?" Carth asked. 

The outcast, one of the poor denizens of the undercity, nodded. Vicious, flesh eating mutants, the rakghouls were a constant threat to everybody living below the Upper city. Once bitten, a victim had a few hours, at most a day or two, before they themselves mutated into a rakghoul. The thought of being infected made Carth's skin crawl. After finding out all he could from the outcast, Revan thanked him, tossed him a five credit chip, and set out into the darkness. As he followed him, Carth suddenly heard movement and instinctively grabbed for his blaster. It was too late. A heavy repeater was pointed at his head. Looking around, Carth saw a grim looking man staring at him from behind the huge weapon. Revan was nowhere to be seen. Carth heard the click of the safety being taken off a blaster.

"Take it easy, drop the blaster slowly and nobody has to get hurt," Revan said quietly, seemingly appearing right behind the hulking owner of the repeater. The man eyed Carth as he slowly lowered his weapon.

"I almost shot you. I thought you were a rakghoul. What are you two doing down here anyways? In case you were blind, this isn't exactly a nice place to go for a walk."

"We're looking for those Republic escape pods that crashed down here."

Canderous looked at the man who'd jumped him suspiciously. He recognized those eyes from somewhere. The way he walked, the way he carried himself… he was dressed like a mercenary or a bounty hunter but there was just something about him…

"Are you with one of those swoop gangs?"

Carth stared at him blankly.

"Swoop gangs?"

"Are you stupid or something? The swoop gangs? Crazy fools who when they're not trying to break their necks at six hundred miles an hour, like to take potshots at pedestrians?"

Revan shook his head.

"We're… we're kind of new here. Can you spare us a few minutes and fill us in?"

Canderous glanced at the chrono on his wrist. He wouldn't normally waste his time to talk to complete strangers, but there was definitely something about the one who'd managed to sneak up on him that piqued his curiosity.

"Yeah, I guess I can spare you a few minutes. The swoop gangs, the lower city is swarming with those punks. The two biggest are the Hidden Beks and the Black Vulkars. The Hidden Beks are led by a guy named Gadon Thek. He's not a bad guy. Keeps his boys in line. But those Vulkars…"

Carth instinctively flinched as the man with the huge gun squeezed the trigger, blasting off a few bolts into the ground.

"Those Vulkars are led by this imbecile who goes by the name of Brejik. Little punk thinks he owns the circuit. Those Vulkars will shoot at anyone, including the Sith. Hell, they've even taken a few shots at me and they already know I work for the Exchange."

Carth looked at Revan. The Exchange was the biggest crime syndicate in the galaxy. It's shadowy fingers reached into every corner of every planet. Where there were credits to be made illicitly, the Exchange was involved. Prostitution, gambling, smuggling, slavery, the Exchange had its hand in everything. Before Carth could speak, Revan cut him off.

"You're with the Exchange? Do you think the Exchange could smuggle a few passengers off this planet?"

Canderous snorted.

"Yeah, you wish. Not even the Exchange can break the Sith blockade. Anyone trying to leave the planet would be fried instantly by their autotargeting defense cannons. Besides I doubt you've got enough credits to make it worth my while. Anyways, I've got to go. If you're looking for those escape pods, there's one just a few hundred meters south of here. Don't expect to find anything though. Those dumb Vulkars have already stripped everything."

As soon as Canderous was out of hearing range, Revan pulled Carth close.

"Maybe this Gadon Thek can help us out. We're going to need some more information before we go stumbling blindly around the undercity."

Carth stared at him like he had just fallen out of the sky.

"The swoop gangs? First the Exchange, now the swoop gangs? Have you gone mad? Those guys will sell us out so fast we…"

Revan shook his head.

"We really don't have much of a choice."

* * *

Revan frowned as he stared out the window of the apartment, looking out over vast metropolitan Taris. 

"What's going through your head, soldier?"

He turned to face Carth.

"Bastila."

"What about her?"

Revan played with the small pendant in his hand and sighed. She had given it back to him, near the end of the Mandalore Wars.

"_Something to remember me by, Revan, so you don't forget me."_

She had pushed it into his hand, given him a slightly sad smile, and kissed him on the cheek.

"_I'd sooner forget my own name. Besides, I think you'd kill me if I did."_

She had been so beautiful, so radiant. It had almost been enough to keep him from leading Malak and the others into the great abyss. He had known it would break her heart, letting himself fall into darkness, resurrecting the Sith to march on the Republic. He had put the pendant back into its box and hidden it away in his apartment on Coruscant. Having it with him brought back too many painful memories, weakening him for the trials he had known lay ahead. When he'd been released from the infirmary on Dantooine after the failed Jedi mind wipe, he had found it, hidden away where he'd left it, tears staining the silk liner of the box.

"She's out there, somewhere. This search, it brings back a few memories, reminds me of someone I once knew."

Carth sat himself down on a bare cot.

"Who?"

"A girl I knew before… before the war."

"Which one? The Mandalorian War or the one we're fighting now?" Carth asked. Revan shook his head.

"It doesn't matter. Both, I suppose."

Carth nodded. Every soldier was different but it seemed they all had one thing in common. The girl they'd left behind. The sweetheart they longed to go home to.

"So what happened with this girl?"

Revan chewed on his lower lip, closing his eyes.

"It's… it's difficult to explain. All that matters is… I loved her. I just didn't know it at the time. I never got a chance to tell her how I felt about her until… until it was too late. I broke her heart and she never knew why."

Memories of Bastila cradling his head in her lap on the bridge of the _Titan_ as she wept came flashing back and he felt a pain in his heart more intense than any he had ever felt before. Carth put an understanding hand on his shoulder and squeezed.

"I lost someone I cared about too. I loved her more than anything, more than I loved myself. But she was taken from me."

Carth's hand dropped and his voice became bitter. Revan could feel Carth's pain through the Force, even stronger than his own.

"I lost her when the Sith bombed Telos. They razed the entire planet and I had to watch. I couldn't do a damn thing about it. My wife… my son… everything I ever cared about… gone. Just like that."

Revan remembered Telos. It had been early in his campaign against the Republic. Saul Karath, one of the Republic's leading admirals had come to him with an offer to switch sides and betray the Republic. Ever wary of treason, Revan had accepted Admiral Karath into his ranks but demanded he pass a test of loyalty. He had ordered Karath to join Malak's fleet, preparing to take a system neighboring Telos. He'd given Karath an order to bomb Fort Trazien, a Republic military base on Telos and one of the Admiral's first command posts as a young officer, into the ground. Malak, consumed by bloodlust and seeing an opportunity to demonstrate his ruthlessness, had changed Revan's commands, ordering Admiral Karath to bombard the entire surface of the planet. When the guns of the Sith fleet finally fell silent, three hundred million people were dead and many more would join them. Revan was guilt ridden at the knowledge he had been the one responsible for giving the initial order that had killed Carth's family.

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"Don't be. It wasn't your fault. But she's gone and I'll never see her face again. Dammit…"

"What?"

"We're soldiers and we pledge ourselves to the defense of the Republic. We follow our orders and we fight. I was in the Republic fleet sent to intercept Saul before he reached Telos. As usual, intelligence was wrong and we got there just as the Sith were leaving the system. I had to hold Morgana in my arms and feel her getting weaker, feel the life leaving her body until she was gone."

Carth clenched his teeth.

"There weren't enough medics. The squadron I was with was prepped for war, not a relief mission. And so I held my wife while she died, knowing the man I'd considered almost a father had killed her."

If Carth had been a Jedi, his anger and hatred would have drawn him over to the dark side long ago. There was vengeance in his heart. But there was also something in him, something that still fought for a higher purpose than simple revenge. There was a struggle in this man, but also a nobility that Revan could sense.

"Betrayal by a friend is among the most painful things a man can experience."

"Yeah... heh… it burns me to know I used to look up to him."

"Who was this man?"

"Saul. Saul Karath, commander of the entire Republic fleet. Until he turned on us. I served on Admiral Karath's command ship in the Mandalorian Wars. He was a hero, one of the greatest. He taught me everything I know. He was a friend, closer than family. I never would have even imagined he would become a turncoat. But he did."

Carth sighed.

"I swore an oath on the grave of my wife, an oath I would find Saul someday and kill him, make him pay. That's the only thing that's kept me going, the only reason I still fight."

"Vengeance alone can't sustain a man for long. There's something more," Revan said. Carth nodded.

"Yeah, you're right, I guess. I fight because no matter how often the Republic seems to let me down with all the corruption in the Senate, I still believe in it. Call me an idiot, but I still believe in democracy and equality and prosperity for all. Even if we never reach it, the Republic at least still fights for those ideals. And so I fight. It's what Morgana would have wanted… Anyways, that's enough rambling for now. We should get some sleep if we're going to track down this Gadon Thek tomorrow."

As Carth turned off the dim light and got into his cot, Revan sat alone in the darkness, the soldier's words playing through his head.

"_Call me an idiot, but I still believe in democracy and equality and prosperity for all. Even if we never reach it, the Republic at least still fights for those ideals."_

Revan sighed.

_This man went to war because he had to. I went to war because I chose to. He fights to preserve what he believes in. But when I fought, I betrayed everything I believed in. What am I even fighting for?_

Lost in his thoughts, Revan finally drifted off into a troubled sleep two hours later.


End file.
